


Here We Are Again

by TheMightyChipmunk



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Established Relationship, Fluff, I promise, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, SO MUCH FLUFF, brief mentions of past Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:10:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyChipmunk/pseuds/TheMightyChipmunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Combeferre have been together since junior year of high school. Enjolras joined the picture after college, making them both so much happier than they ever thought they could be. But secrets come to light when Grantaire gets offered a full ride for a music program across the country and they are torn apart. Grantaire drags himself to California in pieces where he eventually finds someone that could pull them all back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Need To Fight, We're Just Wastin' Time

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY OKAY OKAY so this is gonna be a long one. I've been working on this chapter for... 50 years now? Yeah, that's about right, and I am really excited to finally have this ready enough to post!!!!
> 
> It's sad now but it gets better I promise. I know this because I DO have a layout for the next three chapters and the progress is slow but it is happening and it is *pretty great*... well, yeah. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!!! xoxo 
> 
> P.S. if you were wondering, the title of the fic AND the chapter titles will be lovingly borrowed from The Jonas Brothers' song Tonight. A true contemporary classic.

Enjolras loved the mornings where he got to wake up slow, consciousness expanding outwards in the smallest increments. First he’d notice comfort, the feeling of deep-seated contentedness. Then arms, wrapped around him, tucking him close to a warm chest, the feeling of breath on the back of his neck. Then the light would wake him up, the early morning sun streaming in just a little too bright for him to ignore. He’d reluctantly open his eyes, roll over, gaze fondly at the domestic picture his boyfriends made on the bed beside him, then he’d force himself up to start a pot of coffee, the whole time thanking God that he got through a whole six hours of sleep without nightmares.

Then he would curl up on the couch, and start his work, since it was too early to drive in to the office. Usually it would be R who woke up next, ambling out of the bedroom with wild curls and drooping eyes, drawn like a magnet to the smell of coffee, making Enjolras chuckle and roll his eyes. And since the bed would now be empty, Combeferre would follow soon after, stumbling across the hall to the shower first and foremost.

It was a nice routine, comforting and stable. So when Enjolras woke up this morning to a cold absence at his front, he felt a little pang of disappointment. He snapped open his eyes, a fear pitting in his stomach not unlike on the bad nights, and instead of Grantaire he saw the expanse of empty bed next to him. He shimmied back more into the warmth of Combeferre’s embrace and tried to breathe steadily.

After he was sure he was okay, he swung his legs out of bed and followed the dim light that shown from the hall. A quick glance to his alarm clock on the way showed that it was almost four in the morning, much too early for even Enjolras to be awake.

“R?” he mumbled. He squinted against the light of the kitchen. He heard a jumble and when his eyes finally adjusted he saw Grantaire sitting on the kitchen counter with a mug in his hands. He smiled shyly at him and Enjolras’ forehead furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing up already?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Grantaire teased, before his face shifted to something more concerned, “Wait, did you have a nightmare?” Enjolras sighed and shook his head. It was sweet, how Grantaire worried, but it got a little annoying. As much as he liked that he had people to take care of him now, it still felt like an implication that he couldn’t do it himself. Which he resented for obvious reasons.

“No I just… woke up and you weren’t there. It was a surprise.” Enjolras explained. Grantaire hummed in understanding. “Did _you_ have a bad dream?” Grantaire shook his head and looked down at his mug before taking a sip. Enjolras waited for an explanation.

“I… just couldn’t sleep. Had some stuff to think about.” Grantaire explained vaguely. Enjolras considered pressing, but Grantaire had that look in his eye, that meant he didn’t want to talk. It was too early for Enjolras to have the energy to deal with that look. Besides, it would probably be better to leave that to Combeferre anyway.

“Sorry if I woke you.” Grantaire apologized. Enjolras shrugged and made to grab his computer from the dining room table.

“I guess I’ll just get started on work early. No big deal.”

“Yeah, but you need sleep. Six hours a night isn’t-”

“What the fuck?” Grantaire and Enjolras looked over to the hallway, seeing a rumpled and adorably irritated Combeferre. “Why is my bed so cold? Where are my boyfriends?”

“Maybe you should sleep with a shirt on, if you’re getting so cold.” Grantaire teased, eyes wide and innocent behind his mug of tea as he took another drink. Combeferre rolled his eyes and stumbled out into the living room, collapsing onto the couch next to Enjolras and laying his head on his thigh. Enjolras made a noise of approval and started running his fingers through Combeferre’s silky brown hair.

He heard Grantaire jump off the counter as his computer started up and then saw him sit on the couch, lifting Combeferre’s feet so he could rest them on his lap.

“Are we still on for dinner tonight?” Grantaire asked, seeming tentative. Enjolras stopped his typing and looked down at Combeferre. He didn’t remember any plans for dinner, but Ferre was nodding his head and making noises of agreement.

“Of course, R, we promised.”

“We did?” Enjolras asked after a beat. Combeferre looked up at him with an unimpressed glare. Enjolras was sheepish, but he had work today. He doubted he agreed to go out.

“You promised me, Enj.” Combeferre said, “Remember? At the Musain the other night? You said you’d take off some time?” Enjolras vaguely remembered that, memory clouded by alcohol, but Combeferre took one of his hands in his and kissed it gently, smiling up at him and practically batting his eyelashes. Enjolras rolled his eyes but smiled reluctantly.

“I’ll try to make it work.” Enjolras gave, smiling at Combeferre and then at R in penance, who just nodded back, but looked very pleased. He was hiding something; that was obvious. He was about to ask, when his computer dinged an alert and he got distracted again. 

Eventually Grantaire’s alarm went off and he had to push himself up to start actually getting ready for the day. Both he and Combeferre worked at an elementary school together, (Grantaire a fourth grade and art teacher, Combeferre a second grade teacher) so they drove in together most of the time. Sometimes their schedules didn’t line up, so Grantaire would take his bike and Combeferre would take the car. Today was one of those days, apparently.

“We’ll see you tonight?” Combeferre asked as he pulled his coat on, leaning down to kiss Enjolras’ cheek, since he didn’t have to be into work until nine. Enjolras nodded and smiled, waving at Grantaire who was waiting by the door.

“I sort of have… nevermind, it’s nothing. I’ll see you tonight, Enj.” Grantaire said, waving and blowing a kiss. Enjolras rolled his eyes but blew one back nonetheless, making Grantaire smile.

“Bye!” They all yelled as the two of them left the room, leaving Enjolras alone with his work.

###

“Morning, Cathy.” Combeferre smiled as he and Grantaire opened the doors to the front office. She smiled back when she saw him, practically starting to glow when R followed in behind him. Ferre didn’t know why, but _all_ old women _loved_ Grantaire. It had been that way since they were fifteen, and it confused the fuck out of R. Like, who would prefer him over _Combeferre_? But oh well, it made them (and Ferre) smile.

“Good morning, boys!” Cathy crooned. “Coffee’s on, in the back, if you want some!” she offered, but they both shook their heads.

“Can’t have too much of that stuff. Makes me all twitchy.” Combeferre explained.

“So I abstain out of solidarity.” Grantaire mused, kissing Combeferre on the cheek dramatically. “So you’ll just have to have an extra cup for me, ‘kay gorgeous?” Grantaire said as they kept walking towards the teachers’ lounge. Cathy giggled and swiped her hand at Grantaire, rolling her eyes and blushing a little. When they were out of sight, Ferre laughed and pushed Grantaire softly.

“You’re such a perv. Flirting with the secretarial staff right in front of me.” Combeferre teased, his smile infectious.

“I’m a ladies’ man, Ferre, I can’t help it.”

“A ladies’ man with two boyfriends. What a shame.” Combeferre mused. “See you at lunch?” he asked, once they got to the fork in the hallway that separated the routes to their classrooms. Grantaire nodded and blew a kiss over his shoulder.

“Try not to miss me too much!” he teased as he walked away and no, Combeferre absolutely did not check out his ass as he was walking away. He was at an elementary school and that would be highly inappropriate behavior…

Okay, sue him. He did. But there were no kids around and Grantaire was a boxer; he had a very nice body.

Ferre settled into his classroom, dropping his stuff off at his desk and turning on the lights, both overhead and fairy, before sitting down and going over his notes for the day. The second he opened his planner though, all he saw in big red block writing was ‘ _PTA Meeting!!!!’_ filled in all afternoon. He groaned and seriously contemplated banging his head on his desk.

Grantaire was going to be _so bummed_.

He’d been antsy about this dinner for like a week, kept saying he was looking forward to them all three being together and he was pretty sure there was _news_ and _God this is the worst_. He really couldn’t miss this meeting…

Well fuck. Now his whole day would be him feeling guilty for letting Grantaire down. He did his best to smile and be as engaged as possible when his second graders came lumbering into the room. Lucky for him the lesson was history today. It was relatively easy to forget about his betrayal to the point where he could be a functional teacher… until lunch rolled around of course.

He walked over to Grantaire’s art room as quickly as he could, catching him cleaning up with a few of the fifth graders. Combeferre leaned against the door and let a fond smile stretch across his face as he watched R with the kids. They all loved him. Honestly, even if Grantaire often felt like his depression and anxiety sometimes got in the way of his teaching, Combeferre knew that was far from the truth. Where R was callous and blunt with adults, he was relatable and soft with all his kids, every time.

“Hey Mr. C!” Lana, a girl he had a few years ago said, pulling R’s attention towards him. His boyfriend gave a mini-cheer and motioned him to come in the room just as he told all the other kids to kindly get out.

“Bye Lana.” Combeferre teased, waving as the girl skipped out of the room with her friends. Ferre took a seat behind Grantaire’s desk, stealing the swivelly chair and tossing R his sandwich.

“Hey, love.” R said as he pulled up a chair next to him and kissed him on the cheek.

“Don’t hate me,” Combeferre opened with, not really one for beating around the bush. Grantaire looked at him funny and said, “Okay? I won’t hate you… Promise.” He took a skeptical bite of his sandwich and waited for Ferre to continue.

“I forgot I have to be at the PTA Meeting tonight,” Combeferre rushed out, making Grantaire whine around his bite of sandwich, “I know! I’m an ass! But I totally forgot, we’re doing the Book Fair soon and the End of the Year Festival and I said I would head that up! And I’m going there as a representative for you to talk about art because I know you hate talking in front of groups of our peers and I’m really sorry, love, please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad… I’m just… ugh, this sucks. It’s okay, I guess I’ll just go with Enj then. Did you text him?” Grantaire asked, sounding… not _too_ sad, but still sadder than Combeferre liked making him.

“Yeah, I told him earlier. He said he’d still make it, but he might be late.” Grantaire nodded and then smiled sweetly.

“Combeferre, stop that. You look like you’re gonna have an aneurism. Please calm down, it’s okay. We’ll talk when you get back tonight. I’ll save you my leftovers.” He winked and Combeferre laughed a little.

“You’re really not mad?”

“Not even a little, love.”

“Okay… you’re the best. I love you.”

“I love you too… Now, guess what Tatiana painted today? You literally won’t believe it.”

###

Grantaire shoved his bag into the back of his motorcycle after school, glad that for some reason he and Combeferre had decided to take two vehicles to school today. He really wouldn’t have wanted to put Enjolras out even more and make him pick him up from campus. So luckily he had his bike, and after kissing Combeferre goodbye and telling him for the thousandth time that it was _no big deal, he’d get over it, it was just dinner_ he shoved his helmet over his curls and drove off, towards the restaurant.

The letter felt like lead in his jacket pocket, the same letter he’d been carrying around with him for a little over a week, so that when he started thinking that maybe it was just a dream and he had imagined everything, he could pull it out and stare at it and hold it in his hands until he knew it was real.

He had a full ride to one of the best music programs in California, permission to study for a degree in both Piano Performance and Music Education.

It was fucking surreal.

He’d always wanted to be a music teacher and this was literally his chance laid out in front of him to grab. It just meant… moving across the country and hopefully, maybe having a long distance relationship?

F _uck_ that sounded bleak. Long Distance was always a condemnation and honestly did it even matter how much the three of them loved each other if they were separated by _that_ many miles?

All of this was running through Grantaire’s mind on the drive over, for the solid twenty minutes that he sat there, sipping slowly from his water, texting Joly, and chewing on breadsticks. He was so caught up in weighing the possibilities of him leaving that he didn’t realize it was almost twenty minutes past when he expected Enj to show up. Which meant he was thirty minutes late by normal standards.

Grantaire huffed a breath and looked around confusedly, checking if maybe Enj was looking for him too, which was pretty ridiculous. It wasn’t that big of a restaurant. Once he saw that Enjolras was, in fact, not there, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to see if he had maybe missed a message.

None.

And there was that insecurity flaring to life again, an ugly brutal one that hadn’t popped up to quite this degree since the three of them had first started dating. It was just… sometimes, when Grantaire was really low (and that had been often at the beginning of their three-way thing, when he was just starting working at the elementary school and still not settled in and was in-between therapists, etc. etc.), he tended to become 100% sure that Enjolras didn’t love him, that he was only in the relationship for… well, for Combeferre.

And that sounded ridiculous, when he was _not_ depressed, because Enj _wasn’t_ a shitty person. He… most likely wouldn’t do something like that. But nonetheless, a small part of Grantaire’s mind nagged at him that it was e _xactly_ something that Enjolras would do. Martyring himself for something he loved? Yeah. He totally would go his whole life, pretending to love Grantaire, just because he saw how happy it made Combeferre.

And it made sense. It explained why he hardly ever went out of his way to be with R when Combeferre wasn’t there; why he never made the effort to understand his art or come to his gallery showings (when he used to have them) like Combeferre did, why… _fuck_ he could go on and on with examples of, long story short, how the priorities in Enjolras’ life always seemed to go Combeferre, work, and then maybe somewhere below that fell Grantaire.

It was stupid and irrational but… tonight it really didn’t seem like it was. That night, sitting alone at that booth, now a good ninety minutes past when Enjolras had promised to meet him, it felt achingly true.

He suddenly felt the heavy weight of the pitying stares directed at him and his stomach felt like lead. The waitress came back around, for what was probably the tenth time, and she must’ve said something, but Grantaire didn’t hear her. He just stumbled up out of his seat and the hell out of that restaurant, the one he chose because he knew Combeferre loved their cheese bread and they had good vegetarian choices for Enj and he wanted them be happy when he told them he had to leave them but he didn’t really _want_ to leave them or even, God forbid _lose them_ , and now _fuck fuck fuck_ now it felt like… like he never even had them.

Somehow he made it to his bike, revving it up and guiding his way through the streets of his city, the ones he thought he knew so well, but somehow it somehow avoided his notice that he was making his way to Enjolras’ work until he pulled up to the curb. He felt drunk and dizzy and so, so sad as he walked up the stairs, taking the long way because for some reason he thought that maybe that would give the universe more time to make all of this not true, to make him see that everything he’d been thinking had been _wrong._

 “Do I not matter to you?” Enjolras’ head jerked up at Grantaire’s words, because he’d finally made it to Enj’s office. He obviously hadn’t heard the other man walk in, too caught up in the mounds of work piled around him. Enjolras’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a second, before he glanced at the clock and realization hit him. His posture slumped and he rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m sorry I missed dinner, Grant-” Grantaire made a noise to stop him talking and took a step into the office. He had remained by the door for a while, watching Enjolras work, trying to build up the courage to do this. Suddenly it didn’t seem that hard. Grantaire just felt numb.

“I feel like a fucking idiot. It’s all really obvious, isn’t it?” Grantaire looked straight into Enjolras’ eyes. “You don’t love me.” His voice cracked a little at the end and he hated himself for it. Enjolras sat back in his seat and seemed to be refocusing his attentions. All on Grantaire. It was as unnerving as always.

“Why would you say that?” Enjolras asked, but it wasn’t accusing. It was curious. And his eyes were blank, guarded, and impossible for Grantaire to read.

“Are you goddamn kidding me, Enjolras? Lemme think… I was sitting in the restaurant, the one we were supposed to meet at. I got there a little early, mind you, like I always do for dates. Because I get so nervous and excited that I end up there early. And so I expected to wait a little bit, because you’re always late, you know?” Enjolras nodded reluctantly and it was like a punch because _God he was so nonchalant_. This didn’t shock him at all. It was like he was waiting for it, waiting for Grantaire to realize and had been _prepared_ for it. “And then… Joly texted me and I got caught up in a conversation with him and by the time we were done, you were half an hour late.

“Now, that isn’t necessarily _that_ bad. I mean, you’ve been later, not by much, but by some. So I pulled out my phone to text you, see where you were, all the while trying to ignore the fucking pitying stares that I was getting from all around me. And then I remembered… everything. Things just sort of clicked. All of the gallery openings you missed and the performances and dates. And I thought, ‘wait, no, R, he comes to dates all the time. And to the talent shows and open houses, he’s dedicated to this relationship, he is’. But then I realized, it’s all for Combeferre. I’m… a _second_ _thought_ , if even that! And by the time I had mentally sorted all of _that_ out, you were about… an hour and a half late. _Probably_ not going to show.”

“Grantaire, it isn’t-”

“Because you were all gung-ho about this date when Combeferre asked you to do it f _or him_. But then it was just me and-”

“Work came up, I got busy.” Grantaire snorted.

“ _Bullshit_! God, you don’t even sound like you’re trying to convince me!” Grantaire laughed, feeling tears threaten to fall and hating every second because fuck knows Enjolras wouldn’t be crying anytime soon. “You move work around for Combeferre _all the time_!”

“This was _important_!”

“Then TEXT me!” Enjolras opened his mouth to respond but sighed instead and Grantaire felt the fight leave him in full force. “You didn’t even think about me, did you?” He whispered. Enjolras ran his hands over his face, mussing up his perfect hair.

“I… I’m sorry, Grantaire.”

“Why? What are you apologizing for? Tell me _something_ honest, please, because apparently the last _two and a half years_ of my life have been a fucking lie-”

“I’m sorry for not loving you.”

“What the _fuck_ does that mean?” Grantaire yelled.

“Did you think I wanted this?” Enjolras yelled back, and Grantaire felt his stomach roil at how similar this was to any one of their other countless debates, “I tried! Okay, I tried! Combeferre loves you _so goddamn much_! I wanted to share that with him. He needs this relationship and I wanted to be what he needed!” _Oh God, Grantaire was right. He fucking hated being right_. “But I can’t _make_ myself love someone! I’ve never felt any romantic inclination towards ANYONE until Combeferre! It’s just… this is… hard! This is really hard! And I wanted to try, and when it didn’t work, when I couldn’t… I just thought it would be the best thing to do. Because… God, this is gonna make me sound like a dick… but I can keep doing what we’ve been doing.” Grantaire stared at him, and Enjolras shook his head and looked down. At least he seemed ashamed.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Grantaire said again, this time with much less bravado.

“I could’ve kept pretending. I would’ve been happy to…” He got really quiet as he whispered, “For him.”

“Aw, for fuck’s sake, Enjolras!” Grantaire screamed, feeling his heart literally shatter. Enjolras looked up quickly, as if shocked out of a reverie. “God, I’m leaving, I am _so_ leaving.” He said, panicked.

“Wait, Grantaire. Honestly, what would you have done in my position? I know you love him too, I know you do. Doesn’t seeing him this happy just make everything better somehow? If pretending -”

“ _I don’t want you to pretend to love me_ , Enj. Just… _fuck!_ This is over. You don’t have to do this anymore.” Grantaire grabbed his bag off the floor, not remembering when he dropped it, but wanting to get the fuck out of there as fast as he could.

“Grantaire,” He stopped at the door, hating himself for obeying whatever control that stupid voice had over him, “You can’t just leave… You’re gonna talk to him, right?”

Grantaire leaned his head back, trying to stop the tears.

“Fuck you, Apollo. Yes, I’ll tell him goodbye.”

###

Grantaire was glad he had his motorcycle, as he zipped through the streets. It was more involved, more distracting than just driving in a car. This way his thoughts didn’t seem quite as compressing, his dread for this inevitable conversation not _quite_ as oppressively painful.

It was still pretty goddamn painful though.

He turned into the school parking lot, with his one measly bag of things on the back of his bike, all that he had deemed appropriate to take as his. He’d hoped Combeferre would be back at the apartment by then, finished with whatever he had needed to finish at school, but unfortunately he hadn’t been. So instead of breaking up in the privacy of their own home, he had to do it at the elementary school.

He pulled into the spot next to Combeferre’s car and turned the ignition off. He sat there for another long second, staring at nothing, before swinging off. He searched for some reserve of courage deep down that he didn’t think was actually there as he pulled off his helmet.

“Grantaire?” _Oh fuck_. Combeferre had just walked out of the building and was now walking towards Grantaire with that perfect smile on his face. The very same smile that had gotten Grantaire through countless miserable teenage nights, the smile that could make Grantaire swoon, the smile that made Grantaire _try_ day after day, the smile that could launch a thousand ships…

“What are you doing here? How was dinner? Where’s Enjolras?” He asked. As he got closer, as nothing ever escaped Combeferre’s notice, he clearly recognized key giveaways Grantaire was displaying: he was staring at his feet more often than not, running his fingers through his curls too much, biting his lip, and of course, the red puffy eyes were a pretty clear giveaways that something was wrong.

“Um, Enj is still at work, I think and…”

“Grantaire?” Combeferre whispered, stepping close enough to take Grantaire’s hands in his own and doing just that, pulling him as close as he could be while still looking into his eyes. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Grantaire tried to talk, he did, but he didn’t know where to start. That, and his throat was way too tight, tears too close to falling.

_How the hell do you say goodbye to someone you’ve been in love with since tenth grade?_

“Hey, _Grantaire_ , don’t cry… What’s wrong, love?” Combeferre wrapped his arms around Grantaire and he selfishly let himself relax into the embrace. It was the last time he would be allowed it; he was going to do everything he could to revel in it for as long as possible.

His tears were soaking Combeferre’s cardigan, but of course, the man didn’t say a thing. It wasn’t the first time either of them had been in this situation, so Combeferre knew to just keep rubbing Grantaire’s back soothingly, whispering sweet words in his ear and trying to bring as much comfort as he could. The sentiment made Grantaire’s knees weak.

“I’m breaking up with you.” Grantaire said, words whispered into Combeferre’s shoulder.

“What was that, R?” Combeferre gently pushed Grantaire up so that he could hear him. When he said the words again Combeferre blanched. Grantaire had never seen his boyfriend’s beautiful dark complexion so pale. His stomach rolled with nausea and he tried to pull away, but Combeferre moved with him, almost on instinct.

“What?” He shook his head, obviously trying to wrap his head around something that had come so far out of the blue, “Wha- Are you serious? _Why_?” Grantaire sniffled, trying to stop his tears and reached into his pocket, deciding exactly what to say.

“It’s what I wanted to tell you guys at dinner. I got into that music school, in California. A full scholarship to their Music Education program, with an emphasis on piano performance.” He handed Combeferre the acceptance letter, and the man’s face suddenly brightened.

“Oh, R! This is _amazing_! You’ve wanted to do this for so long! I am so proud of you! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Combeferre looked up and smiled at him and Grantaire couldn’t help but smile back. That. _That_ was what he was expecting, _that_ was what he wanted when he set up this dinner date tonight. Fuck, things _did not_ go according to his plan.

“Yeah, I know, it’s _incredible_. I put in my notice to Valjean a couple days ago, that I won’t be here next year, but that I will come back in four, completely ready to start a _real_ music program… I asked him to keep it a secret, until I was ready to tell you both.” Grantaire trailed off quietly, momentarily forgetting that none of that mattered now. He doubted he would ever be able to come back here after all this…

“Wait, is _this_ why you wanted to break-up? Don’t be silly, we’ll make long distance work-”

“ _No_!” Grantaire snapped. “I don’t want that.” The steadiness of his words were betrayed by the fact that his hands were shaking. Combeferre’s lovely face wrinkled in hurt confusion.

“Why not?”

“I don’t wanna… move to a new town and be… tied down.” Grantaire shrugged and Combeferre rolled his eyes.

“Very funny. Come on, R-” Combeferre moved to grab Grantaire’s hand again and he moved back, pulling his hand out of his grip abruptly.

“No, Combeferre!” The man went back to looking shocked, horrified. “I’m _serious_. I… I don’t wanna do this anymore. I don’t wanna… you and Enj, you guys should be together. You don’t need me.”

“Grantaire! Don’t say that. You know that isn’t true…” And oh God, now Combeferre had tears in his eyes and Grantaire couldn’t handle that. “I do need you.”

 He never made Combeferre cry, never. He _stopped_ Combeferre crying and Jesus, that hadn’t happened in _years_. Fuck, what was happening? “You … You’re serious?” Grantaire nodded, words escaping him. Combeferre deflated, as if Grantaire had caused him physical pain and he damn well knew what that felt like. Combeferre stared at him for a long moment, those haunting brown eyes boring into Grantaire’s.

“There’s something else isn’t there? Something you aren’t telling me?” Grantaire shook his head and took a step back and Combeferre did the same.

“No, Ferre-”

“You’re _lying_!” Combeferre yelled and Grantaire flinched. Combeferre never yelled. “Stop lying…” He whispered, stepping closer this time. Grantaire didn’t know his heart could break so many times in one night. He must’ve been setting some kind of record or something.

“Please, Ferre. You’ve gotta let me go, please.” He took one more step towards his bike, his knees feeling like jelly, and it seemed to catapult Combeferre towards him. The man gripped Grantaire’s waist and put a hand on the back of his neck.

“No, _no_ , R, please. Don’t do this, _don’t leave me, please don’t leave me_.” Combeferre begged. Grantaire brought his hands to Combeferre’s chest, under the pretense of pushing him away, but there was no real gusto behind it. Combeferre leaned down and tucked his head into the crook of Grantaire’s neck, pushing them as close together as they could be.

Grantaire’s whole body ached.

“I have to, love. It’s… it’s the best choice.” Grantaire choked out. _He belonged with Enjolras. Enjolras was better for him, Combeferre would see that in time._ He could feel Combeferre’s shoulders heaving, the heaviness of the situation setting in.

“Why?” Combeferre whispered, resting his forehead against Grantaire’s. They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Because being friends… means never having to give a reason.” Grantaire responded. Combeferre barked out a laugh and hit Grantaire on the arm, not too gently.

“Phoebe Buffay? Really? At a time like this?” He asked, his smile slowly fading back into sadness. “God, I love you so much.” Grantaire tried to smile and nodded slowly, before kissing Combeferre, long and slow, pouring every ounce of love he’d ever felt for him, and Enjolras, into that one kiss.

“Goodbye, Combeferre.” Grantaire’s voice cracked and Combeferre shook his head, but let him pull away. He let him swing his leg back over the bike and drive away. He let him go.

###

Combeferre felt numb as he sat in his car driving home. He navigated the streets mostly on instinct, not even fully realizing he had made it when he went to turn off the ignition, somehow managing to park in the structure without incident.

Because Grantaire was gone.

And he still had no idea _why_. It all felt like some sort of dream, like a _bad_ dream, and if he could just curl up and squeeze his eyes shut, he would wake up. Hopefully, he would wake up in Grantaire’s arms, with Enjolras by his side. It didn’t seem like too much to ask… for God’s sake, it happened two days ago. Now it seemed like years in the past.

He stumbled up the steps and clumsily opened his door, his hands still shaking, not yet quite adept enough to work a key.

“Combeferre?” Enjolras’ voice rang out the second the door closed behind him, and Combeferre felt flooded with relief. He wanted Enjolras to hold him, to give him answers, to _fix this_. Rationally, he knew Enjolras probably knew more about the situation than he did, given that he had had dinner with Grantaire before … before R had left. But Combeferre was too tired.

“Hey, Enj. I think I wanna go to bed.” Combeferre managed to choke out, even as Enjolras threw his arms around him, pulling him close.

“I’m so sorry, Ferre-”

“So he told you?” Combeferre asked quietly. Enjolras nodded, an odd look on his face. “Can we talk about it in the morning? I feel like… ” He had been walking towards the bedroom and he collapsed on to their bed, sighing loudly. Enjolras was in front of him, between his knees, in an instant. “I’m gonna quote Buffy right now, and it is going to be lame and pathetic, but _God_ , Enjolras, I feel like I can’t breathe.” Combeferre gasped and rested his head against Enjolras’ chest. He felt the man’s fingers run through his hair and tried to allow the comfort he offered.

“I’m really sorry, Ferre.” Enjolras whispered, “I know how much you loved each other.” Combeferre choked out a laugh that didn’t really relay any amusement, but Enjolras’ hands were still gentle around his, a steady comfort.

“Yeah, yeah I loved him. And fuck, I _know_ he loved me… he loved me right?” Enjolras nodded, a wry grin on his face, “Then why would he _leave_ us _?_ ” He felt Enjolras tense slightly beneath him, but he had to vent, he didn’t have to time just yet to delve into that, yet it was niggling at the back of his brain, “Yeah, I know he did! I haven’t questioned whether or not he loved me since junior-fucking-prom, for God’s sake. And I’m fairly certain he loved you since the moment he saw you, so this doesn’t _make any sense!_ Did we do some… Wait.”

“What?” Enjolras asked quietly as Combeferre stood up. He paced for a quick second and then turned around and stared at Enjolras’ feet, not meeting his eyes.

“You love him too… right?”

“What do you mean?” Enjolras asked, but it hardly sounded like a question. Combeferre felt his stomach drop like lead.  

“You said ‘I know how much you loved each other’. Don’t you love him too?” Enjolras flinched, as if Combeferre had done anything other than speak above a whisper. He shook his head slowly.

“I’m sorry, Ferre.” Combeferre took a deep breath and a step back.

“What happened at dinner, Enjolras?” Combeferre asked, “What the fuck happened at dinner, Enjolras?” Combeferre repeated, louder this time because if he didn’t say it louder than that look in Enjolras’ eyes, the tears that threatened to spill over in his eyes would cause Combeferre’s anger to crumble and he wasn’t ready for that just yet.

“I didn’t go.” Enjolras choked out.

“ _You didn’t go?_ ” Combeferre squeezed his eyes shut at Enjolras’ wince.

“I got caught up at work and-”

“ _You got ‘caught up at work’?!_ ”

“Stop repeating everything I am saying!” Enjolras snapped, sounding angry but also really tired, “It is not conducive to an adult conversation!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Enjolras-”

“I made a mistake! Okay, I made a mistake and I am sorry and-”

“But something else happened. Something else happened because he’s gone and he didn’t leave because you missed a dinner. That still doesn’t make sense!” Enjolras just stared and worried his lip. “Did it somehow slip out? Did he ask ‘Enjolras, why did you miss our date?’ And you responded, ‘because I don’t love you, please leave forever?’”

“Oh, come on, Combeferre.” Enjolras whined, making Combeferre laugh bitterly.

“Then what? What the fuck did you say to him?”

“Nothing! I said nothing!” When Combeferre didn’t respond Enjolras took the cue to fill the silence with his explanation, “He stopped by my office, after he realized I wasn’t coming and … well he figured it out. He asked me if I … he said I didn’t love him. And I didn’t say anything so that he would think otherwise.” Enjolras at least had the decency to look guilty, but that didn’t exactly make Combeferre any happier.

“What the fuck? Why not?”

“Because! Maybe I was done with lying to him!” Enjolras stood up to face him head on now. He never could resist a fight, even now. When he was upset he tended to respond with wild gestures and loud words, Combeferre knew that well.

“To _both of us_ , you mean!” Combeferre scolded, reeling from heartache and adrenaline, “What the _fuck_ , Enjolras, the three of us have been together for years and you just _now_ decide to tell us the truth?”

“I told you, Combeferre, I wasn’t the one who brought this up. _He_ figured it out.” Enjolras argued, as if that made this any better,

“Oh, so _what_? You were just going to go… what the rest of your life _pretending_ to love him? Half-assing this relationship and hoping no one noticed?” The horrifying thing was that Combeferre was sure this is exactly what would have happened. They’d been blissfully unaware of Enjolras’ inner turmoil for… almost three years? Who knows how long it would have continued?

“I don’t _know_! I don’t know! I just… I knew how much _you_ loved him and I love _you_ so much and I knew I needed to love him too… but, _God, fucking shit,_ I don’t have any excuses, Ferre… I was just really afraid to lose you and I made so many fucking mistakes, Combeferre…”  It was silent for a long moment as Combeferre sank into the mattress, resting his elbows on his knees and trying to calm his racing thoughts.

“Why didn’t you just _go to dinner_?” Combeferre whispered.

“Combeferre,” Enjolras’ voice was pleading.

“No, I’m serious, Enj… You didn’t even _try_ to stop him?” He rested his head in his hands and tried not to cry again. “Did you want this to happen?” Combeferre asked quietly, hardly daring to voice it.

“Fuck you.” Enjolras responded immediately, voice hard, and Combeferre’s head snapped up, eyes hard.

“You don’t have _any_ right to say that, not now-”

“You _really_ think that little of me?”

“Yes! _No_. I don’t know! Fuck, Enj, it’s just, you did this shit to him all the time! You’d miss gallery openings and shows and this _isn’t_ the first dinner you’ve missed… it isn’t that ridiculous of me to assume that you were pushing him away… Did you want this to happen?” Combeferre reasoned, all the while Enjolras was looking uncomfortably like Combeferre had slapped him. They stared at each other for a long moment.

“I can’t make myself love him, Combeferre.” Enjolras’ voice was resigned and Combeferre felt _really_ tired. “Of course I didn’t want him to leave. We’re friends. I respect him even if I’m not in love with him. And even without that, the _last thing in the world_ I would ever want is for you to be unhappy. I’m sorry if I’ve made it seem like that isn’t my first priority… I’m sorry for everything, Ferre.”

He moved to sit beside him on the bed, not moving to touch him but just staying near. They were both quiet for a long moment as Combeferre’s mind whirled around hectically.

“I’ll leave if you want.” Enjolras said after the silence started to become deafening. Combeferre nodded, not trusting his voice to work just yet, but completely done with this argument.

Enjolras stood up slowly. He stopped at the doorway, seeming reluctant about it, nervous about what to say. Combeferre hated how much he still loved him.

“When can I come back?” Enjolras asked, voice carefully masked to hide all hope. There was a reason Grantaire had teased him about being marble at first. He certainly knew how to live up to that reputation.

Combeferre stared at his hands for a long time before he looked up to Enjolras, who was waiting in the doorway patiently. “I don’t know. I- I honestly don’t think I can _look_ at you right now.” Combeferre choked out, putting his hands back over his face, but not before seeing the heartbreakingly pained look that flashed across Enjolras’ features. He schooled his expression blank again before nodding and walking out, leaving Combeferre feeling really and truly alone.

###

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Jehan asked softly, setting down the hot cocoa they had made for Grantaire on the nightstand. Grantaire shook his head without averting his gaze from the computer in front of him. Jehan hopped up onto the bed next to him, leaning their body against the giant blanket cocoon that was R, while Joly and Eponine stayed in the doorway.

“Come on, R. It’s been weeks. And you’ve barely left this apartment, let alone _this room_ , for anything except work.” Eponine said, her semi-harsh words contradicting her soft tone.

“Yeah,” Joly piped in, moving forward into the room a little more, “You’re starting to scare us, R. Everyone is asking about you.” Grantaire just grabbed the cocoa and took a tentative sip before reaching towards the laptop and clicking the enter button resolutely.

“What are you doing on there?” Jehan asked, nodding to the screen in front of them.

“I just bought my plane ticket. I worked out my lease with the landlady down there and I can move in in a couple of weeks, so. It’s settled.”

“R, you can’t just-” Eponine started.

“No,” Grantaire cut her off, “I can. I can just. I _have_ to, you guys. I can’t… just being in the same city is hard, seeing the places we used to be together and just… literally everything reminds me of them and I can’t do it anymore. So. I’m leaving. And I would’ve left anyway, eventually, for school, so this is just me getting a jump on that. On the… healing process.” He finally looked up at them and met all three of their skeptical glares with blank eyes.

“I appreciate your concern, but I really think this is for the best. I never wanted to be someone who… wallows in their break-up like this! You guys are right, leaving this room is like torture for me right now and I hate it. I hate this version of me that cries all day and hardly smiles and drinks too much and… I am not going to get better in this city.” The next time he looked up tears were shining in his eyes and Jehan felt their stomach clench. They’d seen their friend cry way too many times this past month.

“Stop staring at me like that! It’ll be good. It’ll give me time to get settled and find a job and get to know people. And it will be summer in California; I can go surfing and hiking and I can work on my art and… it’s gonna be good. Please stop staring at me and start telling me this is going to be good.” Grantaire choked out, sounding once again like the broken man who had been glued to theirs and Bahorel’s couch for the past weeks. Joly made a pitying noise and shuffled closer to Grantaire, wrapping his arms around him and muttering that _yes of course it was going to be good._ Jehan was going to add more, even if they didn’t know quite what to say, when they were cut off by the doorbell ringing. They made to stand up but Eponine shook her head and pushed herself off the doorframe.

“I got it, J. You stay. I’m…” she smiled and backed out of the room and Jehan was struck with sympathy. Eponine was one of Grantaire’s best friends, but they knew she thought this whole thing was ridiculous. And they also knew that she wanted to punch Enjolras in the face multiple times. And she also just wanted _everything to be okay again_. Jehan wanted that too.

“Umm, guys?” Eponine said, peering into the room after a few minutes, “Combeferre’s here?” Every head in the room looked up in surprise.

“Very funny, Ep.” R said, his voice shaky, but right as he spoke, Combeferre followed in the room behind her, looking nervous and fucking fuck all, he looked _happy_ to see Grantaire. Jehan tried not to gasp as he turned to look at R, who had gone suddenly pale. That only lasted for a second, though, before he was jumping up and, surprisingly, began throwing the obscene amount of pillows that Jehan had on their bed all at Combeferre. Eponine ducked into the hallway and Joly and Jehan took steps back towards the wall, getting well out of the way.

“No!” Grantaire shouted as he threw his third pillow at a rightly confused Combeferre, “No! You are not allowed to be here! How did you find me?” He pointed accusingly as Ferre shook his head and furrowed his brow.

“Well, it wasn’t hard to figure-”

“Stop talking!” Grantaire snapped, throwing a pillow hard right at Ferre’s face. If it wasn’t for the underlying tension of the situation, Jehan would have been laughing, both at R’s gusto and precision and at Combeferre’s confused face as he tried to catch the onslaught of pillows.

And Jehan had _a lot of pillows_.

“You aren’t allowed to talk!”

“You asked me a questi-”

“Don’t talk!” *pillow* “I don’t wanna hear your voice!” *pillow**pillow* “Who do you think you are coming here?” *pillow* “Tell me! Don’t just stare at me!” *pillow**pillow**pillow* “Answer me!” *pillow*

“Well, I wanted to-” *pillow*

“Stop that!” *pillow* “No talking!” Grantaire was now standing on the bed, down to his last pillow which was hanging over his shoulder threateningly. “I told you not to talk!” Combeferre raised his hands in a placating gesture and Grantaire relaxed his stance a little.

“Why not?” Combeferre asked quickly, making Grantaire throw the last pillow hard. But, of course, that left him defenseless, and so once Combeferre caught the last pillow, R slumped against the wall and slid down to the bed. He glared at Ferre for a long moment, until the man zipped his fingers across his lips and mimed throwing away the key. Grantaire groaned and pushed his face into his hands.

“You can’t talk because… I know what you’re here to do. You’re here to get me back. You’re gonna be all ‘I love you, R. Don’t leave; I’ll choose you over Enjolras, after what he did to you, let’s be together, I love you, blah blah, eloquence, blah blah blah’. And I can’t let you do that.” Grantaire said, looking up at Combeferre at the end of his speech, eyes wet. Combeferre took a deep breath and shook his head, looking heartbreakingly lost.

“You should be with Enjolras.” Grantaire whispered, sincerity replacing anger, “He loves you so much… and I know you love him to. You can’t blame him for… me. He… You… Leaving is going to be good. For _me_ , Ferre. I just… I know it is, and please, I need to do this. I _need you_ to let me do this.

“And so, no. You can’t talk. Because I know that whatever speech you planned, whatever you’re going to say to me… it’s going to make me stay. So I can’t let you say it. I could never say no to you, so _I am begging you_. Don’t give me the option.”

Jehan slid their hand down and squeezed Joly’s hand, feeling shaky and also like they had no right to be shaky because they weren’t even the one going through this right now. They weren’t the one losing the love of their life… but still it was _Combeferre and Grantaire._ How could they ever break up?

Grantaire grabbed a pillow off the ground and hugged it to him tightly, a barrier between him and Ferre, however flimsy it may have been. Combeferre wasn’t saying anything, and it seemed to be throwing Grantaire off, his eyes looking around searchingly before settling on Eponine, who was peeking in from the doorway. Jehan saw her smile at him encouragingly, or as encouragingly as she could manage at the moment, and it seemed to steel his resolve. He sat up straighter in bed and turned to Combeferre, who had been staring at him the whole time with pleading eyes.

“Okay...  okay,” Combeferre choked out after his pause, “Grantaire… love, I will leave _right now_ , walk out that door and never try to get you to come back to me again, as _impossible as that is going to be for me,_ if _and only if_ you can tell me right now, without a doubt, that this is what you _want_.” Grantaire stared at him with a slightly slack jaw before, out of nowhere, his whole demeanor seemed to shift. His jaw clenched and it was like a giant sign flashing that all his walls shot right back up. It reminded Jehan of the Grantaire they’d met back in college… but no, that wasn’t right. Because even back then Grantaire never acted like this to Combeferre. To strangers, yeah, fuck yeah, to strangers all the time… but never to Ferre. It hurt to see and it obviously hurt Combeferre too, who almost visibily flinched back.

“This is what I want, Combeferre.” The air felt painfully heavy in the room and Jehan squeezed Joly’s hand in theirs even tighter. “Please… just go.”


	2. If You Give it a Try Well Then Maybe You'll Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new player is added to the equation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally 99.999% FLUFF. But it also brings in Courfeyrac so it is very important fluff. 
> 
> Also the times mark the number of months AFTER Grantaire, Enjolras, and Combeferre broke up.
> 
> (Last also, there is brief mention of attempted suicide, if that is going to potentially trigger or squick anyone, please be aware! It is a relatively small portion of the story, though.)

**_4 Months After_ **

Grantaire gripped the strap of his shoulder bag tight as he pushed his way through the sea of people, trying to find a seat in the auditorium where the first lecture of orientation week was scheduled to happen in… five minutes. He tried to take deep breaths, kept telling himself the change of scene would be good for him, this school would be good for him. His racing heart told him his mind wasn’t buying it.

“Thank God.” He muttered to himself as he finally found a seat that was adequately far away from the front of the room without being so far that he had to squint to see.  Looking around he took in the sea of students and tried not to groan; the majority of them looked at least six years younger than him, if not more. He knew being a transfer student, starting college a little later in life, would be weird, but _damn_ it was really weird.

He just had to get through orientation week and then hopefully his classes would be with people more his age. That or he was going to be spending a lot of his class time buzzed.

“Gum?” Grantaire turned his head to the boy who had just plopped down into the seat next to him. It took a second for him to respond, slightly caught off guard by the boy’s warm brown eyes, open and unabashedly happy.

“No thanks.” He muttered. The boy just smiled at him widely and popped a piece of gum into his own mouth before turning to watch the stage, where the dean of the school had started lecturing. It was probably the corniest lecture Grantaire had ever had to sit through. He expected better from one of the top fine arts colleges in the country, honestly.

“And let me tell you, this _really is_ a place where dreams come true.” The dean said with a wide smile.

“Your _mom_ is a place where dreams come true.” Grantaire muttered, 100% done with orientation week already. He leaned back in his seat and ran his hands over his face, almost missing the chuckle from the boy next to him. Grantaire chanced a look over and saw the boy smiling widely, staring right back.

“Classic.” He whispered. Grantaire felt his cheeks heat and shook his head.

“Sorry. I promise my humor is usually more sophisticated. It’s just, this speech is-”

“Awful. Trust me, I know.” The boy grinned widely and Grantaire was transfixed. “When he talked about us ‘taking the initiative to develop our gifts’ as ‘fulfilling our civic duties’ and how we have to ‘honor our many duties’ I almost died. I think his voice itself is lowering my IQ.” They both laughed and immediately received (what Grantaire deemed completely unnecessary) hostile glares from the row in front of them. They tried to quiet down, Grantaire waving a hand in apology.

“Damn. I’ve been here not even a day and people already hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” The boy replied definitively. “In fact, I think I rather like you. I’m Courfeyrac, by the way.” Courfeyrac offered his hand and Grantaire took it, offering his name in return, with a genuine smile.  

“So, they can’t _really_ punish us if we don’t go to orientation shit, right?” Courfeyrac whispered and Grantaire didn’t try to hide his grin, “I mean, what’s the worst they can do to us?” Grantaire shook his head and pretended to think hard about it.

“I got nothing. Actually, wait no. What I’ve got is a bottle of tequila back at my apartment that my friend Eponine sent me off with.”

“That sounds w _ay_ better than this.” Courfeyrac said with a grin. Grantaire nodded and grabbed his bag, inordinately pleased with how this day turning out.

“Well let’s go then.”

###

“I like your place!” Courfeyrac shouted from Grantaire’s living room. He wasn’t trying to be nosy, but Grantaire had a lot of pictures up, so he stared at the frames for a little longer than he normally would have, while Grantaire was in the kitchen.

“Friends from back home?” Courf asked when Grantaire came back with- “Oh my God. You legit made margaritas? Like blended and everything?” Grantaire smiled and shrugged, utterly endearing.

“They make tequila not taste quite as much like shit.” Grantaire explained. Courfeyrac nodded because, really, he wasn’t wrong. “Hey… this is gonna sound awkward but um…”

“What?” Courfeyrac prompted, taking a sip from his drink. Grantaire blushed a little and shook his head nervously.

“Well, I know what this could look like, you know,” he trailed off and Courfeyrac furrowed his brow, looking confused and also feeling very amused, “You know, first day of college, we’re practically strangers… I invite you back to my apartment that is yet to have a roommate and give you _tequila_ … I just wanna say that that isn’t what this is.”

“You’re… not giving me tequila?”

“Oh stop it! You know what I mean,” Grantaire laughed and Courfeyrac conceded.

“So you’re not trying to fuck me, is what you’re saying?”

“Exactly!” Grantaire snorted and went to sit down on the couch, “I’m not really looking to fuck anyone, let alone… date anyone. I sorta, just got out of a really long relationship.” Grantaire muttered the last part before taking a long drink of his margarita.

“How long?” Courfeyrac asked tentatively, moving to sit next to him on the (obscenely comfortable) couch. Grantaire winced and muttered something against the rim of his drink. “Hmm? What was that?”

“I mean, number of years _dating,_ that’s… well, I met him in the ninth grade.”

Courfeyrac stared at him with wide eyes.

“Oh, shit.” Broke up with his high school sweetheart. That had to hurt. “So, friends then?” Courf asked, trying to shift the mood away from the depressing turn it had taken. Grantaire smiled and nodded.

“Yes. Please, friends I can do.” Courfeyrac laughed and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah! I can see that.” He gestured to the many pictures he had been looking at over, depicting a group of what looked to be about ten people? “An eclectic group you have there.”

“Aw, true.” Grantaire laughed, “Friends from back home.” He explained.

“Where’s that? Back home?”

“New York. Born in Brooklyn, but those pictures are mostly in Manhattan.” Courfeyrac felt his eyebrows raise, impressed.

“Really? That’s so cool. I’ve always wanted to live in New York.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s a little cliché, but whatever.” Courfeyrac shrugged and took another sip from his drink, already feeling a buzz. “Shit, I know I’m a lightweight, but how much tequila did you put in this? I’ve drunk half and I’m already feeling it.”

“Not that much,” Grantaire said suspiciously, “Where are you from, then?”

“Los Angeles. I didn’t move nearly as far as you.”

“Oooh, born and raised in Cali, huh?” Grantaire teased, but Courf leveled him with a stare that shut him up real quick.

“Please never say Cali ever again, I am begging you. I will personally kick you out of this state.”

“What?”

“Just trust me on this one. As I native of the Cali ** _fornia_** culture, just trust me.” Courfeyrac reasoned with a smug smile. Grantaire laughed and nodded, shifting his legs underneath him so he was more facing Courf.

“Well, it’s good to know I have you looking out for me then. It was hard… leaving New York and all of them behind. Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” Grantaire explained and he was smiling, all friendly, but his voice was forlorn.

“How come you did it then? I mean, not that I’m not glad you’re here! It’s just… I’m sure there were schools closer? And we’re both older so, I’m sure you had a job and… why leave it all behind?” Grantaire stared at the coffee table and took a big gulp of his drink before answering, the pause long enough to make Courfeyrac kick himself for asking. He always was too nosy.

“Well, like I said… big break-up. Honestly, I don’t wanna get into too many details because it’s sort of a downer, but it was big… and something like that changes you, you know? And it changed the way I saw everything in the city. Everything reminded me of them and it was just… torture to be there. I didn’t like who I was becoming and this scholarship was amazing and the program here is amazing and can you tell I’ve given myself and others this speech about 5000 times?” Grantaire asked self-deprecatingly. Courf snorted a laugh because it was the polite thing to do and hoped his face didn’t look too pitying. Grantaire didn’t seem like the kind of person who would take too kindly to being pitied. “Leaving was probably the coward’s way out, but… it’s done now, so why fret over it.” He shrugged.

“True.” Courfeyrac allowed. Grantaire stared at the carpet absently for another long moment before turning to Courfeyrac with a grin.

“Now that’s _really_ enough of the sad talk. Please let’s change the subject. What about you? Why are you back in school?” Grantaire asked, and Courf happily accepted the change in subject because it meant Grantaire looked about 300% less tense.

“Well, actually I hadn’t left it yet. I was pretty far into a law degree when… well, I realized I was only doing it because of my dad. He’s a lawyer and I always just _assumed_ that was what I was going to do, you know? Like I never saw another option, but… I hated it. It got really bad for a while. Like, really bad, and I’ll spare you the details but it was time to get out. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t thought of that before it’s just, when you’re four years in you think it’s pretty much too late to turn back. But after my second hospitalization my mom took me aside and said it was time to change some things. We looked into other careers and I’ve always loved violin and it turns out I’m pretty damn good. So, here I am.” He lifted his glass ironically before he took another drink and waited for more questions from Grantaire, intrusive ones probably because, well Courfeyrac opened the door with his big stupid mouth, but the man just stared at him for a long second before smiling.

“We’re really bad at avoiding serious talk.” Grantaire teased, making Courf bark out a laugh.

“You’re right. I _think_ that means we need more alcohol.”

 

###

Grantaire’s head was pounding when he woke up Saturday morning. (There was a reason tequila wasn’t often his drink of choice.) He rolled over and shoved his face into his pillow, trying to block out the light glaring in his room, wishing he’d already put his blackout curtains up. After a long moment of feeling sorry for himself, he reached over to his nightstand to find his phone and check the time. Not that he had any plans to actually go to any of the orientation events today, but he would like to know how much he had already missed. When he groped around blindly for a moment and still found nothing, he sat up and glared at the table, confused to find it empty. He always left his phone on the charger when he went to sleep, so it was easy to reach.

He forced himself out of bed and lumbered towards the kitchen, stopping short when he saw the bundle of blankets that was lying abandoned on his couch.

Courfeyrac.

The memories came rushing back and Grantaire couldn’t stop his grin. _Courfeyrac_. Fuck, his night with Courfeyrac had probably been one of the best he’d had in _months_. And they hadn’t even had sex, honest. They had just _talked_. And drank. And laughed. And they watched quite a few movies and he thinks they baked cookies at one point? It was a little blurry, but there were moments that stuck out. Like when Courfeyrac had claimed Bill and Ted’s Bogus Adventure was not as good as Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure and they had argued for about forty five minutes; or when they were watching Keeping Up With the Kardashians and Grantaire has him to pass the popcorn and Grantaire called him “Courf” and he smiled so wide Grantaire thought he might have actually started glowing a little bit; or when they went out on the fire escape and played a version of I Spy that they somehow made a drinking game in order to finish up the bottle of tequila, before Courf leaned over a kissed Grantaire softly on the lips, both of them smiling the entire time (It wasn’t a perfect first kiss (it was hardly even a kiss), but to Grantaire it felt very _them_. Even if ‘them’ had only existed for less than twenty four hours (even though cosmically it felt like they had been intertwined much longer)); or when they had finally ambled inside and Courf had fallen asleep on his couch, surrounded by all of his pillows and blankets, despite it still being 70 degrees out, and Grantaire had spent another hour sketching the rather adorable figure he made.

He walked into the kitchen partially expecting to see Courfeyrac there, not wanting to believe that he had just left. He only had a few seconds of sadness when he saw that Courf wasn’t anywhere around, when he heard his phone beep behind him, placed obviously on a note written in bright orange highlighter.

_Grantaire-_

_Thanks for the picture ;) you really know how to flatter a man… also, sorry for leaving D: I had to get to work early (and YES please pity me; I have to work with a hangover). Believe me, I really wanted to stay and I am NOT running away from you. I just have like an ingrained compulsion to never be late for anything (time is an illusion, but lateness is REAL and RUDE). So, I left my number in your phone and you should text me, or whatever, you know. It’s cool. I’m breezy._

_Last night was fun. Amazing. Awesome. We should do it again._

_Courf_

Grantaire grabbed his phone to check, not overeager, just completely nonchalant. He grinned wider somehow when he saw that Courf had made his background Aaron Carter and Lizzie McGuire (the topic of which may of come up multiple times the night before). He _may_ have actually giggled before managing to confirm that Courf’s number was in fact stored there. He ran his hands over his face a couple of times, to try and stop himself from acting like a teenage girl. This was getting ridiculous; he was acting like a teenage girl.

He was going to be cool and collected and a _normal person_.

That lasted about to the end of his shower, after which he caved and texted Courfeyrac.

###

“Hi, can I get a venti iced Americano with three pumps of vanilla and room.” Grantaire said, fighting a yawn mid-sentence. He usually didn’t go to Starbucks, but he couldn’t find his coffee maker in the boxes he was yet to unpack. And he really wasn’t up to unpacking until he got caffeine. Thus, Starbucks.

“Can I get your name?”

“R.”

“Just the one letter?”

“Yup.”

“Okay then.” Grantaire smiled and walked towards the bar to pick up his drink after paying. It was always easier to just give R then make them spell Grantaire… even though, really ‘Grantaire’ was spelled pretty much exactly as it sounded. Oh well. He was pretty sure it was in the Starbucks employee manual that you had to spell at least 65% of your customers names wrong.

He found a place amongst the few people standing around and was about to go about like everyone else and lose himself in his phone (Tiny Tower) but something caught his eye first.

Courfeyrac was behind the counter, focused intently on his work and bopping his head along to the music that was playing over the speakers.

So fucking endearing.

Grantaire felt a little creepy, just watching and not saying hello, but he was working. It was bad manners to flirt with someone while they were working.

“A grande chai for Meredith!” Courf announced, sliding the order over and smiling widely at the woman who took it, without actually looking up from whatever he was currently making. They made small talk and Courfeyrac was obviously charming the pants off this lady, so that she walked out a few minutes later, smiling wide and cheeks rosy. _He was so fucking cute._ Grantaire watched him serve the next few drinks, smiling politely to all the customers as he did, and finally it looked to be his. Grantaire started to walk over to get his drink as Courf was mid-announcing it.

“Venti iced Americano for R- wait.” He tilted his head and stared at the drink. “Oh, man, that’s not- okay, that’s what I did wrong! Sorry sir, this didn’t look right, gimme one sec, I’ll fix it, I promise. _Really_ sorry about this, dang, I hate making mistakes.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Grantaire said with a smile. Courf still hadn’t noticed it was him yet.

“How’s your day going so far?” Courfeyrac asked, and it took a moment for Grantaire to realize he was talking to him.

“Well it started off pretty great.”

“Oh that’s good-”

“But then this guy at Starbucks messed up my drink and now, honestly everything is just ruined.” Grantaire teased. Courfeyrac stopped his hands and looked up at him suddenly. He looked shocked for a moment, but then recognition settled over his features and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh my God, shut up, Grantaire.” Courfeyrac smiled at him and his eyes lit up. It was a different smile from the ones before, more relaxed and Grantaire liked that he noticed that. He liked that he got a different smile. “What are you doing here?” he asked as he started moving around again, finishing Grantaire’s order.

“Getting coffee, obviously. I need the caffeine boost before I attempt to unpack.” Grantaire shrugged and Courfeyrac eyed the cup he was placing the cap on before handing it back to Grantaire with a raised eyebrow.

“Well who’s ‘R’ then?”

“Oh! I am R. R is me. It’s a nickname.”  Grantaire explained with a laugh. Courfeyrac nodded and smiled.

“So we’re Courf and R.” Courfeyrac mused. “Courf and R. Courf and R… that kinda sounds like a country or something, when you say it out loud? Courf and R…”

“It sounds magical.” Grantaire teased and they both laughed before Grantaire took the cup and moved towards the condiment (?) bar, where the half and half was. “I should probably let you get back to work.”

“Probably.” Courfeyrac said with a smile, despite the fact that he was still buzzing about, working diligently. Quite the multi-tasker that boy was.

“So I’ll… see you soon?” Grantaire asked hopefully as he edged towards the door. Courfeyrac laughed loudly and nodded.

“Yeah, text me!”

“Already did!” Courf reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone was the last thing Grantaire saw before he slipped out of the store, but a second later he felt his phone buzz.

_Dinner tonight?_

###

**_6 Months After_ **

It was fucking impossible to get a practice room in this school.

Their music program was amazing, the staff composed of some of the most talented and experienced in their fields, the students eager to learn and eager to work and prospering around every corner. Their music program was the shit.

So could someone _please_ explain why there were like _maybe_ eight good practice rooms to choose from? This shit made no sense. And now Grantaire was forced to pace up and down the hall, peeking into every room and feeling more and more discouraged every time he saw someone occupying the space Grantaire _so needed more than them_.

Okay that probably wasn’t true but _come on._ He had a performance in Recital Rep coming up, and he was supposed to be working on his accompaniment assignment, because they were definitely going to notice if he showed up sight-reading _again._ So, he prayed that there was some God smiling upon him as he opened the last possible door.

Apparently, there was.

There are some people that practice in these rooms and are on edge the whole time. Grantaire used to be like that, at the very start. The rooms aren’t really sound-proof, despite the meager attempts at placing cushion around the walls, and people can always see who is in there through the little glass square at the door, and people were always walking in and out, checking to see if the room was empty. Really, privacy was a thing to be wanted in those rooms.

But there were some people who literally just didn’t give a fuck. They were too busy being lost in their playing to take notice of their surroundings.

Grantaire was _so happy_ Courfeyrac was one of the latter.

Grantaire liked Courfeyrac. He liked him _a lot_. They’d had a few classes together, which was pretty much unavoidable since they were both older transfer students in an already relatively small music department. They got lunch together a lot, snapchatted, did theory homework together, and whatnot, and Grantaire knew Courf was there on a violin scholarship, but the closest he had gotten to seeing him play was when R was assigned to accompany the orchestra, where Courf was first chair.

But that was nothing compared to what Grantaire was watching, listening to, now. Courfeyrac was fucking _amazing._ Watching him play, his expression and movement, was almost as invigorating as the piece itself. It was one of Grantaire’s favorites, George Enescu’s _Concertpiece for viola and piano_ , and it wasn’t easy. Grantaire knew, because he’d played the piano part for it before, and that piece demanded an intense amount of lyricism and elegance that most violists couldn’t maintain.

“I’m impressed.” Grantaire said, applauding slightly and smiling widely at Courf’s shocked face when he finished and saw R standing there, “That’s not an easy piece.” Courf gawked at him for a long moment before reaching over and pausing the track that had been providing the piano part (a horrible thing to practice with, something Grantaire planned on remedying immediately even if it meant delaying his own practice a while).

“Yeah well, it’s one of the only Romantic French works for viola, so I had to give it the old college try.” Courfeyrac teased, his cheeks flushed slightly pink, making his freckles even more pronounced. _Damn he was cute._

And yes, that was not something that escaped his notice. Courfeyrac was _very very cute_ and very sexy and very smart and very funny and just all-around an amazing guy to be around. Being friends with him was an extremely difficult thing for him to do.

But Grantaire was still healing. As much as he loved being around Courfeyrac, as much as he almost 90% of the time, without fail, managed to get Grantaire out of his head, it still was too soon. He couldn’t let himself move on from… everything just yet. It didn’t seem fair.

“Yeah, but I thought you were a violinist?” Grantaire asked as he moved further into the room, dropping his bag by the door and moving towards the piano bench.

“Uh-huh. I am, but my private instructor wants me to ‘expand my repertoire’. And it’s just viola.” Courf explained with a shrug.

“Is it not that different playing the two?”

“Well, I mean, it’s definitely different. The viola is bigger, so the fingering is a little shifted, but once you get the hang of that, it’s the same basic idea.”

“I like the viola. That and the cello, they’re my favorites.” Grantaire said. He grabbed the sheets of paper off Courf’s music stand, ignoring his indignant noise of protest, and laid them out in front of the piano. “I’m always a slut for the strings.” Grantaire teased as he moved his fingers slightly over the keys, remembering the pattern of the song in front of him. He used to know this one so well it was muscle memory and he was sure it would come flooding back if he gave it a few tries.

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and laughed, “Shut up, R. Hey, you know this piece?” He asked, eyes lighting up.

Grantaire nodded, “Hmm… where’s your accompanist? Who are you supposed to be playing this with?” Courf shrugged then pulled his viola back to his shoulder in perfect form.

“I’m not sure yet. Dana hasn’t assigned me one. You wanna run through it with me?” Courf asked tentatively, moving to stand behind him so he could see the music over his shoulder. Grantaire grinned at him and nodded.

“I’d love to. You’re pretty good, you know.” Grantaire said nonchalantly. Courfeyrac laughed, a full-body one, throwing his head back and smiling all the way to his pretty eyes.

“Thanks, but that was nothing. Just you wait, bucko. I’ll give you a real show this time.” He teased, but Grantaire just raised his eyebrow in challenge.

“Bring it.”

###

**_11 Months After_ **

“So are you dating Grantaire?”

Courfeyrac looked up from his book quickly, not having noticed someone sliding into the booth across from him. Considering the fact that it was almost 2AM on a Thursday and he was at an old 50’s diner close to campus but hidden well enough away that not too many people knew of it, he thought his surprise was warranted.

“Um, excuse me?” he asked. It took a moment for him to recognize who was asking, but then he realized it was Maya. She worked with Grantaire with the kid’s orchestra and choir and her twin brother Hoku was in Courfeyrac’s Ethics class.

“Are you dating Grantaire, like on the DL or something?” She asked again, her hands folded in front of her in a very professional-seeming manner. She was very pretty; long black hair pulled into a loose braid (to get people to think she’s trustworthy, which he knew was a thing thanks to Nicole Richie), big dark eyes and perpetually flawless skin. He was pretty sure they were from Hawaii? But that was partially speculation on his part. Put this girl in front of him a year ago, and he would probably have been tripping all over himself to make her smile and either be best friends with him or fall in love with him.

“Um, that’s a weird thing to ask someone at 2AM on a Friday morning. Also, I have it on solidly good authority that people don’t say DL anymore, so.” Courfeyrac shrugged, shamelessly going for a diversion tactic that he knew was futile, and took a long drink from his Sprite. Maya just rolled her eyes at him and sat up straighter and, yeah. Courf felt a speech coming on.

“I was just walking by and saw you in here, I wasn’t stalking or anything. And anyway, I’ve been meaning to talk to you because I’m pretty sure you’re dating Grantaire. Or at least want to be.” She paused, as if waiting for Courfeyrac to confirm or deny, but he didn’t really have anything to say. And she looked like she had much more to say, so he just sat there, staring at her with wide eyes and waiting for her to continue. “Because, the thing is, Hoku has sort of had a thing for you for a couple weeks now,” And _yeah_ he had a feeling that was where this was going to turn, “But when he told me this we were both like, ‘he has a thing with R, right?’ Because you two are always together and act like you’ve known each other for fucking years when I know for a fact you met at orientation and I mean, you could probably cut the sexual tension between the two of you with a knife, so I asked R about it.” At which point, Courfeyac could feel a grimace stretch across his face, which probably wasn’t polite, but neither was this confrontation thing, so.

“You did.”

“I did. I asked him if he would be cool with Hoku maybe asking you out, like if you would be up for that. Because as much as you’re a friendly, attractive guy, the only person you _really_ hang out with is R. I’m pretty sure you haven’t even _slept_ with anyone here yet and that just seemed too weird to me. And so I asked him and his face looked pretty much exactly like yours does right now, but nonetheless, he said he was cool with it and that you seemed to like Hoku and there were probably other legit reasons why you had yet to hook up with-”

“Wait, what the fuck? Did you tell him all these things? Everything you just told me?” Courfeyrac cut in, his heart dropping to his stomach. Maya raised one eyebrow at him and nodded.

“Yeah, I explained my reasoning to him.” She stared at him for a long moment. “Why? Why do you look like you’ve gone a few rounds with a vampire?”

“ _What_?”

“You’re really pale all of a- oh. You’re not dating Grantaire… but you’re in love with him, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice suddenly much softer than it had been for the majority of the previous conversation. “Shit, don’t I look like a bitch.”

“Oh, no, don’t… don’t call yourself that, just I- fuck, I don’t know. Yes? Just… _fuck_. Look, Hoku is great, and I’m pretty sure I was the perfect fucking gentlemen when I rejected his offer to take me to dinner, so you really have no reason to come here and get all up in my face for saying no. This whole thing is literally _none of your business_ and now I need you tell me when you had this conversation with Grantaire? Recently?”

“Um, yeah, yesterday night, I-”

“Goodbye, Maya.” Courfeyrac snapped, launching out of the booth and moving towards the door before he could say something mean or even worse, forgive her because her big stupid brown eyes were so pretty and he was _not_ okay with forgiving her for maybe outing his crush on his best friend.

Not that he was that coy about it, but… shit, Grantaire wasn’t ready for a relationship! He had been crystal-fucking-clear in stating that he wanted a friend. A _friend._ And yeah, Courf didn’t know the whole story but his break-up had obviously been a doozy, a real big one and so now it was _completely reasonable_ to just want a _friend_.

And Courfeyrac had to fuck it all up by getting _feelings_ like some kind of chump.

He moved through the streets quickly, making his way towards Grantaire’s apartment. He hadn’t seen him since Tuesday night, since before Maya’s fucking meddling. Wednesdays were always Courf’s busiest days and Thursdays Grantaire’s and Courf had an essay he had to edit and- yeah. They were planning on having lunch tomorrow, and in hindsight the conversation Courf wanted to have could probably have waited until then, but oh well. Courfeyrac _really_ wanted to see him.

He bounded up the stairs to R’s building, sliding to a stop outside of his door. He considered using the spare key he knew the location of, but it was late and he didn’t want to scare him, so he knocked. He waited there for a couple of minutes and just as he was about to knock one more time, he saw a light turn on inside and heard Grantaire stumbling through the hall. A moment later the swung open, revealing an adorably sleep-rumpled Grantaire.

God what a _cliché_ but he looked so precious with his hair sticking out at all angles and his stubbly chin and _oh_ he was only in boxers. Thank God he at least had a shirt on, because that would have been all kinds of distracting.

“Courfeyrac,” he managed around a yawn, “It’s 3 in the morning. What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Courf said as he walked past Grantaire and into the apartment, “I just… I’m sorry for the late hour, but I wanted to see you. And tomorrow is both of our days off so… I thought it would be okay?” Grantaire nodded vehemently as he rubbed his eyes.

“Of course! I’m always happy to see you, Courf.” Grantaire stated simply with a sleepy smile that made Courfeyrac’s heart flutter. “You want something to drink?” he asked, moving into the kitchen. Courfeyrac shook his head and climbed up on one of the barstools.

“Um, I’m good. I was just at Abbie’s actually.” Courfeyrac explained, picking at the strings on the sleeves of his oversized sweater.

“Oh, that diner you like?” Grantaire asked, grabbing a plastic cup of the top cabinet and moving to the sink to fill it up.

“Uh-huh… I saw Maya there.” Courfeyrac muttered as he chewed on his thumb. Right as he said it, he heard the distinctive sound of a cup dropping followed by Grantaire cursing softly. It would’ve been cute, if Courfeyrac’s heart hadn’t been pounding so hard.

“Oh yeah?” Grantaire asked a moment later, feigning nonchalance. Courfeyrac nodded as he walked over, fresh cup of water in hand, shirt splashed with water. “What about, um, Hoku? Was he there?”

“Wow you would be a shitty actor.” Courfeyac muttered fondly.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Um, so Maya. Yeah. You guys talked?” Courfeyrac asked tentatively. Grantaire nodded.

“Yeah, um did she… I guess it was… why did oh fuck. This is stupid. Did Hoku ask you out?” Grantaire set his cup down on the counter pretty dramatically, and honestly it was a bit of an overreaction, but oh well.

“He did.”

“And did you say yes?”

“No.”

“… okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Courfeyrac stared at Grantaire a long time after his reply. “Why are you staring at me?” Grantaire asked slightly confused.

“I don’t know! You tell me!” Courferyac snapped.

“What?! That doesn’t even make sense, Courf! Why did you say no to Hoku?”

“Oh my God, why does everyone think its some great mystery that I don’t want to fuck Hoku? He’s not _that_ great! Just because I didn’t say I’d go out with him, that shouldn’t automatically imply that there’s some suspicious reason why! Does everyone want this guy and I’m just missing something?” Grantaire stared at him like he was insane.

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.” R said after a moment and Courfeyrac groaned loudly.

“You are such a douche, Grantaire.” Courf announced, making both of them laugh suddenly, which faded eventually into a tense pause. “Can we just… stop beating around the bush and admit it. You’re not stupid. I know you know, now.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow in that disarming way he always did and his lip twitched into a smile.

“Ohhhkay. Why don’t we pretend like I don’t and you just say it out loud?”

“I’m falling in love with you.” Courfeyrac said, a far-cry from casual, even if that had been what he was aiming for. Grantaire’s jaw dropped open a little. “And I _know_ you’re not ready and I know what you need now is a friend and that’s the thing, R, I am _so_ happy to be your friend. I love being your friend! And-”

“So that’s why you haven’t been with anyone else? Because…”

“Yeah,” Courf whispered, filling in Grantaire’s blank, “Because I don’t want anyone but you. And I know you aren’t ready for a relationship, but I can wait.” Courfeyrac shrugged and tried to straighten his shoulders, tried to counteract the shrinking feeling that Grantaire’s gaze was inflicting.

“I don’t mean that in a creepy way, because if you never want me then… I’ll get over it and find someone else, because I am _so fucking happy_ being your friend. But, yeah, if a relationship with you in the future is a possibility… I don’t need anything else right now. Just you. Always you.” He added on, almost too quiet, but if R’s intake of breath was anything to go by, he definitely heard it.

“I don’t wanna make you wait for me.” Grantaire breathed.

“I really don’t mind. It’s no trouble.” Courf said with a smile, voice cracking only slightly when Grantaire took his hands in his. They were the same height, more or less, so it was more than natural for R to rest their foreheads against each other.

“You deserve better than me.” R added, sounding sad.

“Bullshit. Hey, even if you aren’t my boyfriend, you’re still my best friend.” Courf said, and Grantaire grinned, a true genuine smile that made Courfeyrac feel all warm all the way to his toes. Like that song Bubbly by Colbie Caillat. He was all bubbly.

“Is that what you want?” he teased, pulling one of Courfeyrac’s hands in his up to his lips, “Do you wanna be my boyfriend?” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and shrugged, trying not to grin but just 100% failing.

“I don’t know… maybe?”

“You wanna hold my hand and brush my hair and ask me about my day and tell me about yours-” Grantaire teased good-naturedly, until Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft and sweet for a moment, on Courf’s end, until he realized R had kind of frozen up, despite the hand he’d moved to Courf’s lower back. When Courfeyrac opened his eyes he saw Grantaire’s eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed. He tried to pull back, put Grantaire’s hand kept him close and he rested their foreheads against each other’s.

“That was my first kiss since…” Grantaire mumbled with his eyes still closed tightly, shaking his head minutely, “I didn’t know it could still feel like that.” He whispered with an incredulous laugh.

“Feel like what?” Courfeyrac asked, a little nervous.

“Like coming home.” Grantaire muttered before sealing their lips together again.

###

**_1 year and 2 months After_ **

 “So this is like… a legitimate form of painting? You didn’t just make this up?” Courfeyrac asked, only slightly teasing and definitely partly serious, as he slid on the frock Grantaire handed him. R rolled his eyes and stuck is tongue out, not bothering with a frock himself because, according to him, paint stains add character.

“Are you kidding me? Haven’t you seen _The Princess Diaries_?”

“… No.”

“What the fuck.”

“Add it to the list.” Courf said with a shrug. The list was a mentally compiled list of all the movies Grantaire considered classics that Courfeyrac had never seen. You know, there was a time when Courf thought he was well-versed in pop culture. Apparently he was wrong about that. “So I just throw a dart?”

“And hopefully hit a balloon.” Grantaire added after a little hum of approval. “According to my sources, this is harder than it looks.” Courfeyrac grabbed a dart and made a big show of aiming straight, pointing to his target with his free hand and everything, and then threw.

“Fuck yeah!” He shouted, no cool at all, as a spray of lavender paint exploded from the pierced balloon. “Your sources suck.” Grantaire laughed out loud and kissed Courfeyrac on the cheek.

“Or they just underestimated how awesome my boyfriend his.” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, but was obviously pleased. He loved that he was Grantaire’s boyfriend.

“Sap.” He mumbled, grabbing another dart as Grantaire did the same. “Who was your source, anyway?” Courfeyrac asked a few minutes later, after Grantaire had triumphantly popped his first balloon and they finally got the ball rolling. He just meant for it to be conversation, something to fill the silence, but Grantaire hesitated a little in his throw, as if the question caught him off guard.

“A friend from New York.” Grantaire replied. Courfeyrac bit his lip. This was one of those boundary things he wasn’t usually good with. He knew talking about New York made Grantaire tense. He also knew why, sort of. They’d been dating four months now, so he knew about Enjolras and Combeferre and how that ended badly and how Grantaire still wasn’t fully healed from the wound yet. He knew the bare bones of the situation, but Grantaire hardly divulged anything more than that.

But Courfeyrac really wanted to know more. Not _just_ because he was nosy, but because it felt like this huge brick wall in their relationship. Courf understood that it wasn’t going to come down easy, but bit by bit, right? And they had to start somewhere, so…

“Which friend?” Courfeyrac asked tentatively. Grantaire took a long moment before taking a deep breath and looking slightly less tense.

“Did I ever mention Feuilly to you?” Courfeyrac shook his head no. The name didn’t ring any bells. “Oh, well, yeah. It was Feuilly. He was the only other one, other than maybe Jehan, who had any real interest in painting. We tended to bond over that, if nothing else.” Courfeyrac nodded and they went back to throwing darts, although the silence was a little tenser this time. After a while Grantaire sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, smearing some dots of paint in the black curls.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I get like that.” Courfeyrac set down the dart and turned to Grantaire, resting his hip against the table.

“Grantaire, I don’t mind. I get that talking about it is hard for you, I do.” R nodded and Courf smiled reassuringly. “I’m sorry for pressing. If you don’t wanna talk about them, you don’t have to.”

“Ehh, it’s not that. I like talking about them… they were my best friends for… a long time. It’s just… it feels dishonest? Like I’m cheating on them with you?” Grantaire tried and Courf couldn’t stop his bark of laughter.

“You’re ridiculous. And sweet. But that’s silly and you know it.”

“I know, I know-”

“But anxiety isn’t rational and we both know that, so again, I’m sorry if I pressured you. I don’t wanna do that.” Courfeyrac took Grantaire’s hand between both of his and tugged him close. “But I always want you to talk to me.” He kissed his hand once and then turned back to the darts. “I always love talking to you. You’re the best.” Courfeyrac said decidedly and Grantaire laughed once, fond and happy. They worked again for a while, breaking about half the balloons.

“You would love Jehan, you know.” Grantaire admitted. Courfeyrac tried to keep a neutral face, like he wasn’t cheering on the inside.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Let’s just say you both have a tendency towards the dramatic.” Grantaire teased. He stared at his hands for a long moment and his mouth opened a few times, as if he was going to start talking before deciding against it. Eventually he decided on words, speaking quiet enough that Courfeyrac almost didn’t hear him. “You’d be great with Combeferre, too.” Courfeyrac’s lips twitched into a smile as he turned to Grantaire, still staring at his hands contemplatively, but looking less fierce about it, more like he was remembering something fond.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire chuckled, “You have no idea. Not a day goes by that I don’t wanna talk to him about you. Like that time you went off on those two girls in the quad about how we need to vaccinate our kids? God, that was perfect. Combeferre would _propose to you_ if he’d seen that. Hell, I almost did.” They both laughed and Courf flushed a little at the memory. He always felt like a jerk when he lost his temper, which he didn’t do often, but honestly those girls deserved it. He still regretted yelling at them, though, even if he definitely didn’t regret the message behind his words.

“You know,” Courfeyrac tried a moment later, when it didn’t seem like Grantaire was going to add anything else, “He’s not dead.” Grantaire gave him a funny look and Courfeyrac turned back to the painting (on which he was contributing much more than Grantaire was, thank you very much. Apparently he was really good at darts).

“All I mean to say is, you could call him, you know. Maybe not to brag about your new boyfriend, but you’re obviously not over him. Maybe this could help with… closure.” Courfeyrac reasoned. Grantaire made a choking noise that sounded a little bit like he was dying and Courf turned to him in alarm.

“What makes you think I’m not over him?” Courf just raised an eyebrow, because come on. Emotions were Courfeyrac’s thing. And Grantaire was so easy to read he was practically 48 pt font.

“I could give you a list of reasons if you want.” Courfeyrac teased, but Grantaire didn’t laugh. He just looked increasingly concerned.

“Have I… I mean, just, well… you know I lo… I haven’t… _hurt_ you have I? With my lack of emotional competence?” Courfeyrac opened his mouth to protest, because that wasn’t exactly it, but something must’ve read on his face and Grantaire grimaced. “I’m sorry, Courf! Aw, fuck, Combeferre… yes I still love him sometimes, and Enjolras… fuck I don’t wanna open that door, but nothing I feel for them changes how I feel about you! Please know that!”

“I do! I do! That’s not-” Courfeyrac took a deep breath and smiled, because he was calm. This was silly and a misunderstanding and he was fine. “I know. You lost something big, when you left them, and I’m not going to be all it takes to fix that pain.” Grantaire nodded and looked a little more relaxed, but he was still staring intently at Courf.

“Good, that’s good. Because you have helped a lot, you know.” Courf nodded. “A lot, more than I thought anyone was capable of helping me, and to be honest, you help me more and more every day. Having you here means a lot, Courf.” Grantaire was so sincere that Courf couldn’t help his smile, and Grantaire eventually caught on and joined him.

“Fuck, you make me such a sap, Courf, I swear.” Grantaire complained. Courfeyrac scoffed and started throwing darts again.

“Puh-lease. Don’t blame your lame masculine insecurities on me.”

“That’s not it, though, is it- oh, for fuck’s sake, Courf! That’s like five in a row! I’ve hit like five all together and you’ve hit at least fifteen!” Courf tried to protest, but Grantaire grabbed the darts from his hand. “No more! the remaining… like four balloons are mine, you freak.” Courfeyrac laughed loudly and pulled the big recliner chair from the corner of the room a little closer, so he could watch Grantaire’s rather futile attempts to pop the remaining balloons.

“Okay, now that you’re comfortable, are you going to tell me what else is wrong?” Grantaire asked.

“Nothing else is wrong!” Courfeyrac protested.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty because you’re a shit liar, _babe_.” Courfeyrac glared at the endearment and then rolled his head back on to the cushion dramatically.

He knew he shouldn’t bring it up; it’s _silly_ , honestly. It’s just… Courfeyrac liked sex, okay? And yeah, that’s a stupid statement because who _doesn’t_ like sex? … okay, asexuals. They don’t like sex. Yes, okay, but Courf was not asexual and he did like sex. Not just because it felt good, even though it did, but it was so … intimate. Courfeyrac _loved_ connecting with people like that, on such a basic and familiar level. And he really wanted to be that close with Grantaire. Because being with Grantaire was… perfect. Even when it was really anything but perfect, it was still so perfect.

So Courf wanted to have sex with Grantaire. But he also understood that Grantaire probably wasn’t ready yet, and that was completely understandable. He just sort of… wanted to know when he would be ready. If he would ever be ready. Because he would be fine if he wasn’t! It was just, the limbo of not knowing was not fun.

“It’s stupid.” Courfeyrac muttered after his rant in his head had subsided. Grantaire snorted a laugh.

“Yeah. Seriously, when I signed onto this relationship, I did not agree to having to put up with like, your f _eelings_ and shit. So it’s a good thing you’re keeping a lid on that. I really appreciate it.” Grantiare deadpanned, managing to pop a balloon that exploded with an alarming amount of force.

“That’s not what I mean.” Courf grumbled. Grantaire sighed and came to sit next to him on the chair.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Grantaire asked, maneuvering his legs so he was sitting crisscross. Courfeyrac chewed his thumb and tried to find the right words that didn’t make him look like a creep.

“It’s just a little… I was sort of wondering why… we haven’t… done _it_?” _Holy fuck, Courf couldn’t even say the word, what was wrong with him?_ Grantaire sat up straighter and his lips _almost_ quirked into a smile, but he seemed to repress it.

“Wait, have I not fucked you yet?” Grantaire asked, the picture of nonchalance. Courfeyrac felt his cheeks heat up and even his ears were burning, but if Grantaire was going to play this game than he could fucking play it too.

“Nope.” Courfeyrac shook his head, “Not yet.”

 _Oh,_ Grantaire mouthed, nodding his head and seeming to contemplate something. “Well, that’s gonna happen. Soon.” R insisted. Courfeyrac tried to stop the smile, but really couldn’t.

“Oh is it?” Courf teased and Grantaire nodded, expression serious. They stared at each other for a short moment and then Courf looked down around them at the chair they were on. “Right now? Right here… or?” Grantaire scoffed.

“ _Come on_ , Courfeyrac. No. I am not going to have sex with you for the first time on a reclining chair. At two o’clock in the afternoon. Covered in paint. That would be rather lame.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay. So you have this all planned out, then?”

“Yes, _babe_ , I do. And let me tell you, when it happens, it is going to _knock your socks off_ , Courfeyrac.”

“Well, I am really looking forward to that.” Grantaire smiled widely and kissed him once on the tip of his nose before bouncing off the couch and back to the table to finish their masterpiece.

###

Grantaire slid into the booth across from Courfeyrac, breathing a little heavy from having to walk quickly across campus to make it here on time. Courfeyrac smiled widely at him and slid the plate of food across the table. Grantaire made a pleased noise and took a drink of his coke.

“You got me pulled pork. I love pulled pork.”

“I know, you monstrous carnivore.” Courfeyrac teased, popping a fry in his mouth.

“Shut up.” He made a sad noise around a big bite of sandwich and gestured to Courfeyrac’s plate, with his grilled cheese sandwich almost completely gone. “You’re done already?” He asked, mouth only a little full. Courfeyrac shrugged a shoulder.

“Sorry. I was hungry and you were late. I don’t mind waiting, take your time eating.” Courfeyrac took a sip of his drink and Grantaire smiled widely.

“You’re the best.” He whispered and Courf was about to respond, something snarky and cute, but he let out more of a squeak instead, as he felt Grantaire’s foot trailing up his calf.

“Excuse me?” Courfeyrac said, trying to ignore the heat that flushed through his body even from such a small touch. Grantaire looked completely innocent, even as his foot (somehow bare? How did he get his socks off? Courfeyrac would have to investigate his shoe situation).

“Hmm?” Grantaire mumbled around his sandwich, and he swears, if it wasn’t for the foot steadily working its way farther and farther up Courf’s thigh, then he wouldn’t know a thing was going on.

“Are you planning on engaging in sexual intercourse with me in the middle of the cafeteria? Because that’s a horrible plan.” Courfeyrac hissed, squirming away despite the fact he had nowhere to go. Grantaire lips just barely quirked as he tugged Courfeyrac forwards again with his feet (Courfeyrac didn’t even know people could be that pedi-dexterous) and resumed is ministrations, but he kept it lower this time, and it was almost nice.

Still too distracting for public comfort, but nice.

“That would be a _horrible_ plan.” Grantaire mused as he took another long sip of Courfeyrac’s drink, breaking his nonchalant façade just for a moment as he gave Courf an exaggerated wink.

“I hate you.”

###

“You’re late, Grantaire.” Their Music Theory professor scolded, making Courfeyrac jar up in his seat ( _where he had not been sleeping, thank you very much_ ).

“Yes, sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” Grantaire assured as he slid into the seat directly behind Courfeyrac. The man just rolled his eyes and looked super not-convinced in the way that only experienced musicians can look. It’s sort of terrifying, but Grantaire didn’t seem to mind. He was a pianist after all. Pianists never acted scared of their teachers, all bravado, and as a violinist, that really confused Courfeyrac. Even though he was filled with bravado in the majority of the rest of his life.

“Hey gorgeous.” Grantaire whispered, leaning forward and kissing Courfeyrac on the cheek.

“Hey R. The fuck have you been? You’re fifteen minutes late.” Grantaire just shrugged and pulled his notebook out, although there was no way he was taking notes. Grantaire was a fucking theory wizard, the freak. It would make Courf mad how good he was, if it didn’t mean that he got his own personal theory tutor who would work for kisses.

“I got caught up in something. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Very vague. I hate vague.” Courfeyrac muttered back, but R just smiled wide and kissed him on the cheek again before slouching back in his chair.

He tried to focus, but he looked down one second and then the next he was looking up and the class was _over_. Like, some kind of time continuum shit went down that day, Courf _swore_.

“Hey, Grantaire, Courf, what are you guys doing tonight?” Their friend Floreal asked, as they made their way out of class. “I mean, besides all the gay sex.” Courfeyrac flushed as red as Grantaire laughed out loud.

“Fuck you, Floreal. Um, I don’t know? We didn’t have plans. Why? You got something for us?” R asked. Floreal nodded and pulled a flyer out of her bag.

“A friend of mine, Travis? You might’ve heard of him? His older brother runs a karaoke bar a little north of here and a bunch of us were gonna drive over and make a night of it. You wanna come?”

“I don’t know…” Courf mused, looking to Grantaire, “You wanna go?”

“They have this thing where for every song you sing, you get a free shot?” Floreal offered and Grantaire grinned unapologetically.

“We’re in.”

###

The bar wasn’t nice; it had tacky fluorescents and sticky floors and shady motherfuckers standing outside. It also wasn’t horrible; they served Mexican food and the atmosphere inside was more welcoming then the outside would suggest and a lot of their friends were packed in together. He and R immediately bought nachos and giant margaritas, so the night was feeling plenty enjoyable as they watched their peers and randoms get up and sing their little hearts out.

They were watching a girl (Josie? Courf couldn’t quite place her and he blamed the margarita) from their Music History class give a rather entertaining performance of Genie in a Bottle when Grantaire went up to grab the songbook and plopped it in front of Courf.

“I signed us up, but you’ve gotta chose a song!” Grantaire said in his ear. Courf nodded as he drank from his margarita.

“You already chose one?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna play it.” Grantaire gestured to the keyboard that they had set-up behind the mic and mini-screen for lyrics. “But before you ask, I can’t tell you what I’m singing. It’s a secret.” R explained, and even though he was still watching Josie (?), eyes not on Courf, he could still 100% see the mischievous glint in his boyfriend’s eyes.

“Fine, keep your secrets… what should I sing? Britney? Or should I go more classic, like _Wanted Dead or Alive_. I feel like that always has to be done at karaoke. How has someone not done that yet? Oh! Wait, no. I know what I’m doing.” Grantaire nodded and looked over at him.

“… well are you going to tell me or…?” Grantaire asked with a laugh. Courf glared at him.

“You’re kidding me right.” He deadpanned. “You just told me yours was a secret!” Grantaire laughed kissed him on the cheek.

“Fine. We’ll both make it a surprise.” Grantaire agreed. Courfeyrac tried to grumble crankily but just ended up giggling and leaning into his boyfriend’s side as he kept kissing his face and mumbling sweet things. Grantaire was literally the world’s biggest sap when he wanted to be.

He had to push him away after a moment though, because the DJ guy called his name announcing he was next. Courf took a big drink from his margarita and walked up there, trying not to blush at the applause. He always got blushy when he drank. It was annoying.

“Hello,” he said into the microphone, trying to keep eye contact mostly with Grantaire so that he wouldn’t get nervous, “I’d like to remind everyone that I am a violin performance major. Not a vocal one, so. Pre-emptive apology here, but I’ll be singing _Every Little Thing She Does is Magic_ by Sting.” The crowd gave an uproar of applause as the track started to play and Courfeyrac couldn’t help but grin.

He got lost in the song pretty quick, having more fun that he thought he would. He always loved singing, even if he was pretty sure he was just yelling/speak-singing most of the time. Still, that didn’t stop him from jumping around on the last refrain and getting everyone to sing along with him. It also helped that every time he looked over to Grantaire, his boyfriend was watching him with the widest grin as he mouthed along with the words. It made Courfeyrac feel all tingly and giddy, the way his eyes were filled with what seemed to be adoration.

When the song was over and he had taken his bow, giggling all the while, he made his way over to his table, to Grantaire. R kissed him sweetly, holding both of Courfeyrac’s blushing cheeks in his hands as he did. It ended much too soon though, as Grantaire was called up to sing his song next.

He strolled up there, pulling the mic stand to the piano and settling in as if he owned the place. Grantaire always acted with a little more bravado when he was drunk, and while Courf loved Grantaire _all_ the time, he had to admit this version of him was very sexy.

“Hey guys, so this is sort of a special song for me. I recently learned it on the piano and I would like to dedicate it to my very lovely boyfriend, Courf, who you all just had the pleasure of seeing perform.” Grantaire explained and Courf felt his heart beat faster.

“Oh my God, what is happening.” Courf whispered to Floreal who was in the seat next to him. She just laughed at him and shook her head, watching R still, “Something is _definitely happening_.” He said again, this time to the server who placed a full shot of tequila in front of him. Courf grabbed his arm and spoke probably much too close to his face, but the guy just smiled at him like he was insane and backed away, hands up in surrender.

“Anyway, he means a lot to me and this song makes me think of him so… here’s _I Choose You_ by Sara Bareilles.” He went to start, placing his fingers over the keys, before he stopped and looked up at the crowd again. “Oh, also, I am a piano performance major, but I was _very_ close to being a vocal one so, here’s a pre-emptive _your welcome_ for this performance.” He said with a wink to Courfeyrac, who rolled his eyes despite the waves of satisfaction and anticipation that were rolling through him at the thought of being _serenaded_ by his boyfriend.  

“ _Let the bow break let it come down crashing…”_

###

“ _I choose… you.”_ Grantaire finished, cutting off the music on his last word abruptly, and then forcing himself to open his eyes as the applause rang out, immediately finding his boyfriend’s face, to gauge his reaction. And honestly, once he saw him he forgot all the reasons why he’d been nervous. Courf was smiling so widely, and even though he looked a little shell-shocked, Grantaire had never seen him look happier.

 _I did that._ Grantaire thought, walking off stage on a little bit of a high, _I made him look like that._

Courf smiled at him the whole walk back to the table, but as Grantaire slipped into his seat Courfeyrac slipped on an indifferent mask (although R could see the corners of his mouth twitching up).

“That was alright, I guess.” Courf said with a shrug, rolling his eyes up slightly. Grantaire laughed and leaned his elbows on the table, angling himself more towards Courf.

“Oh yeah? Just alright?” Grantaire pressed, pushing his knee into Courf’s and staring at him with wide eyes. It took about two seconds before Courfeyrac was laughing and grabbing his hand, pulling him close.

“Okay! Okay, that was amazing. _You’re_ amazing. I can’t believe you… that was all about me?” Courfeyrac asked, trailing off into a whisper. Grantaire felt flooded with warmth and that tentative smile and also immensely relieved.

“ _Yes_. You’ve been… Courf… you’re _incredible_.  I love you so much.” Grantaire whispered, and it may not have been the first time either one of them had said that to each other, but Courf lit up like it was. “You wanna get out of here?” R asked, tugging slightly on Courf’s hands. He nodded and stoop up anxiously, making Grantaire laugh.

They said their goodbyes to everyone, some of whom were bummed they were calling it a night so early and others who smiled smugly because they knew e _xactly_ why the night was being called early, and then they were walking out to Grantaire’s bike, parked out back. He was lucky Courf had taken it upon himself to drink not only all of his own, but also most of Grantaire’s margarita, because it meant that now he was entirely fit to drive.

Once they made it back to the apartment, Grantaire was unusually dizzy off of the ride over. The combination of the thrill he always got whenever he was on his bike and the feeling of Courfeyrac pressed up close behind him went right to his head.

Because they both knew exactly where this night was going.

“You know, it’s funny that they were serving us margaritas at that bar.” Courfeyrac said once they had climbed the stairs and were walking into Grantaire’s apartment.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Grantaire asked. He threw his bag down and then grabbed Courfeyrac’s hands in his, once his boyfriend had taken his coat off and perched himself on the edge of the couch.

“Because that’s the same drink you served me that night we first met? When you told me you ‘weren’t trying to seduce me’.” Courf teased, adding air quotes and everything in his _completely_ inaccurate impersonation of Grantaire.

“That is _not_ what I sound like and also, what’s with the sarcasm?” he asked with a laugh, “I was the perfect fucking gentleman that night!” Courfeyrac just made a judgmental humming noise and shook his head.

“Well, I don’t agree.”

“And why is that?” Grantaire asked, trying to look annoyed even as Courfeyrac pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around R’s waist.

“Because, lemme tell you, I am thoroughly seduced.” Courfeyrac said lowly, smiling widely the whole time. Grantaire groaned loudly and shook his head.

“That doesn’t count!”

“It does!” Courf insisted, “You were just playing the long game, hedging your bets.”

“ _Oh my God_ , shut up… you know, you’re making me reconsider this whole thing. Maybe I shouldn’t do this, just so I can hold true to what I said that night…”

“No!” Courfeyrac said quickly, grabbing Grantaire’s chin in his and bringing it down so it was right next to his lips, “I’m okay with being seduced, really.”

“That’s what I thought. Now let’s have sex now.”

“Yes please.”

###

**_1 Year and 4 Months After_ **

“Hey Courf, what’s up?” Grantaire greeted, only briefly looking up from his painting. Courfeyrac was standing in the doorway, very not coyly staring at R, something obviously on his mind.

“Hey babe,” he moved inside, finally, and Grantaire smiled fondly as he grabbed the ottoman from the corner and pulled it over to the wall by Grantaire, curling up on it so he could watch his boyfriend work. “That’s looking good. Is it for class?” Grantaire raised an eyebrow and held back a laugh.

“I’m not _in_ an art class this semester, Courf, you know that.” Courf laughed and shook his head.

“Right, right, I knew that.” He sighed loudly and leaned his head back against the wall. “It’s been a long day, sorry.” Grantaire set his brush down and moved to sit next to Courfeyrac.

“You wanna talk about it?” Grantaire asked. He knew Courfeyrac better than almost anybody, yet even a complete stranger would be able to see something was bothering him. But Courf just shrugged a shoulder as his cheeks flushed slightly. A long moment passed and just as Grantaire was about to voice one more encouragement, Courfeyrac finally spoke.

“Do you have… plans for the holiday? Because, you know it’s almost Christmas break…” Grantaire shook his head.

“Nope, no plans. I’ll probably just hang out on campus, like last year.”

“You’re not flying back to New York? I know you said your parents are gone, but… you don’t wanna see your friends?” Courfeyrac asked tentatively. Grantaire shook his head slowly. He wasn’t ready for that. Wasn’t sure he would ever be ready for that.

But it didn’t matter either way, because no one really stayed in the city for Christmas. Jehan and Bahorel switched off every year, going to either Morocco or Hawaii to visit family. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta were lucky that their families were close, so they managed to do one big Christmas at Musichetta’s family’s house in Boston, where Joly’s parents and little brother drove out to and Bossuet’s mom and sister and Aunt and Uncle walked to, as they lived much closer. And the rest of them, Cosette, Marius, Enjolras, Feuilly, and Eponine, all drove up to the beach, where Cosette and Enjolras’ mother and adopted father lived, and spent the holidays with them.

Grantaire used to spend the holidays with Combeferre. The two of them would spend the first couple of days with Enjolras, at Valjean’s house, and then they would drive down to Combeferre’s parents. It was tradition, and the one time of year they visited their hometown. They would drive by all their old hangouts, the diner, the high school, the movie theater, the newly renovated mall, the hills behind Floreal’s old house, and their last stop before home was always the cemetery, where Grantaire’s parents and Combeferre’s sister were buried. And then they’d drive another ten minutes to Combeferre’s old house, a gorgeous brick thing that Combeferre knew a _ll_ the random architectural facts about. It was cute, how much he loved that house. And Grantaire had loved it too. After his mom had passed, Combeferre’s family was all he had, and they were good to him. Really good to him.

Grantaire wondered, painfully, what Combeferre would do this year, what he did last year. Would he go alone? Would he take Enjolras with him? What did he tell his mom, his little siblings, when they asked about him?

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Grantaire said with a smile he hoped didn’t look too bitter. Courfeyrac grabbed his hand and smiled, understanding etched in his features. Then he blushed again.

“Have we ever, um, talked about my family?” Courfeyrac asked. Grantaire thought back on their late night conversations, the night he told Courf about his dad leaving and his mom dying when he was just out of high school. They’d covered families that night and…

“I remember you saying who have two younger sisters? And an older brother? That’s all I can think of though.” Courfeyrac sighed and nodded.

“Well… I told them about you, obviously, and well, they wanna meet you. They want you to come home for Christmas.” Courfeyrac rushed through the last sentence, so Grantaire almost laughed and didn’t register it. But the noise stuck in his throat as the sentiment registered.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Christmas, huh? … That’s a big step.” Grantaire reasoned, laughing softly, although nothing was really funny. Courfeyrac nodded, studying Grantaire intently. “I mean, we have been dating for almost a year… Do you want me to come home with you for Christmas?” Courfeyrac smiled fondly and nodded, still seeming to be studying Grantaire, as if waiting for him to run away or start crying or something. It was making him nervous.

“I would _love_ for you to come home with me.” Courfeyrac said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Grantaire shrugged along with him.

“Yeah! I mean it makes sense, right?” Grantaire asked, “I love you, you love me. This isn’t going to end anytime soon, right?” Courfeyrac nodded along and Grantaire felt, surprisingly, legitimately more confident about this whole thing. “Then it makes sense for me to meet your family! It does! Yeah!” Grantaire nodded to himself and smiled, ignoring Courfeyrac’s choked off laugh at his enthusiasm.

“Great! Yay! … But, there is one more thing I should tell you.” Courfeyrac deadpanned.

“Uh-oh.”

“No! No, it’s not _that_ bad, it’s just…” Courf bit his lip, trying to find the words and Grantaire’s enthusiasm notably dwindled as his nerves bubbled high.

“What is it Courf? Is it the gay thing? The… not Catholic thing?” Courf laughed and shook his head.

“We’re Italian, but we’re not _all_ Catholic, don’t worry. But we are a big family; Christmas _will be hectic_. And you can expect a lot of people to tell you, and me, that we are too skinny and should eat more and blah blah, but… no. That’s not it.”

“Well than what is it, babe?” Grantaire asked, his impatience showing.

“My dad’s a lawyer, did I tell you that?” Courfeyrac asked, not giving time to answer, “No, I don’t think I did. Oh well, long story short, he’s a pretty damn good one and I may or not have, but definitely did, grow up in Beverly Hills?” Grantaire squinted his eyes at him for a moment.

“You live in Beverly Hills?” He tried not to sound incredulous, but _wow_.

“A little bit… kinda. _Yes,_ okay? I used to, I _used to live in Beverly Hills_.” Courfeyrac emphasized. “And, my family is sort of known for throwing these really big and fancy holiday parties? One on Christmas Eve and another on New Years’ Eve and… yeah, we have to go both. You’d have to wear a suit and a tie and probably a nice vest and we can’t be drunk and we have to make small talk with not only my grandmas but also rich people and executives and politicians and people who I don’t even know how they got rich but they did and are at my house and we have to be nice to them and it sounds like it sucks, I know, and it _does_ , but… I need you there, please, _please_ come with me. It will be _sooo_ much better if you’re there and-”

“Courf!” Grantaire shouted, cutting off his boyfriend’s ramblings with a soft kiss, “You’re gonna have to buy me a suit. Because I sure as hell don’t have one good enough-”

“You mean you’ll come?” Courfeyrac asked, looking too much like a puppy dog than anyone has a right to.

“Of course I will.” Courfeyrac kissed him, both of them smiling wide the whole time.

“You’re the best.” Courfeyrac said softly, and then more excitedly, “And I _will_ buy you a suit… well, my parents will buy you a suit. I don’t really have the money to buy you a suit, but they won’t mind-”

“Yeah, how did you manage to hide from me, for the better part of us living together, that you’re filthy rich?” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes.

“ _I’m_ not filthy rich. My _parents_ are. And I made it very clear that I wanted to be able to function on my own and not be completely dependent on my parents for money, like a _lot_ of my high school friends now are. So they help me out here and there, mostly with tuition, but I still have a job and I mostly use that money to live off of.” Courfeyrac explained with a shrug.

“You’re amazing.” Grantaire marveled, kissing Courf on the cheek once before getting up and returning to his painting. “So, when do we get this suit?”

“Hmm? Oh, we’ll do that when we’re back home. We have a personal tailor, so I’ll have him do it for you.” Grantaire turned around and stared at Courf, he just smiled guiltily.

“If that shocks you, honey, you got a _big_ storm coming.”

###

“I swear to God, if one more person passive aggressively cuts me off, I WILL be driving on the shoulder!” Grantaire exclaimed, making Courfeyrac, who was bundled up in a blanket in the passenger seat chuckle.

“I told you it would be bad. You were the one who was all ‘I grew up in New York, dollface, I can handle traffic’.” Courferyac said in a, what he hoped, was a shitty impression of him.

“I did not call you dollface.” Grantaire deadpanned. “And I do not have a Brooklynn accent.” Courf just shrugged and pointed out the window.

“Hey! Look, there’s the Getty!” Grantaire looked out for a second, trying to look and in the literal two second span of time, a red BMW snuck into his lane in front of him. Grantaire groaned loudly.

“For fuck’s sake! My lane is not going any faster!” He reached down to honk the horn and Courf scrambled over to stop him.

“Grantaire!” Courf scolded and R turned to look at him like he was crazy. “Do not honk. We’re in back to back traffic, honking will not help. Just chill; we’ll get there when we get there.” Courfeyrac tried to reason, but Grantaire just glared.

“You aren’t in New York anymore, _babe_.” Courf teased. Grantaire stuck out his tongue and turned back to the road with a huff.

“Your house better be really goddamn nice for all this shit.” He grumbled. “Is the exit soon?” Grantaire begged.

Courf nodded and yawned, stretching out his legs. “Like ten more minutes, probably? So do you wanna go over anything again?” Grantaire smiled as he turned on the windshield wipers, a faint drizzle starting up.

“I think I got it.”

“Because there are a lot of people-”

“No one is going to expect me to know their names. I’m the new guy; they’ll understand.”

“That means you didn’t _listen at all_ , doesn’t it?” Courf groaned. How a semi-grown man managed to pout so endearingly, Grantaire did not know.

“I listened a little…”

“You’re going to regret it. Just wait. They’re going to eat you alive.” Grantaire reached over and took Courf’s hand in his, trying not to laugh at his boyfriend’s dramatics.

“You’ll just have to protect me then.”

###

“ _Holy shit,_ Courf.” They finally pulled up to their destination and Grantaire didn’t know what else to say. He knew it would be _big_ , but this…

“Yeah, it’s pretty great. I’m really lucky.” He said, he picture of nonchalance, but there was an undeniably fond smile tugging at his lips. Grantaire laughed loudly as he parked where Courfeyrac directed him to.

“It’s so fucking _big_.” Grantaire whispered, taking the in the three stories and legitimate _palm trees_ and the lush green lawn.

“Just wait until you the see the art room. And the music room. You’ll love it.” Courfeyrac said, climbing out of the car. They moved to grab their bags out of the back together and Grantaire frowned.

“Why do you have an art room? You don’t art.” Grantaire asked, pulling Courf’s out for him. Courfeyrac shrugged it onto his shoulder and rested his hip on the car.

“No. None of my siblings do, either. All of our artistic talent resides in musical areas. _However,_ and this is a funny story, you’ll appreciate this, when my older sister saw _The Notebook_ she decided for some reason she wanted to be Ally Hamilton and she tried to start painting. She got pretty into it and you know, got my dad to dedicate a whole room to her pursuit of it. But she was awful. Like so, so bad. It was embarrassing. But everyone loves Belle. She’s the nicest person ever, so no one wanted to outright te _ll her_ that she had the talent of a blind two year old.” Grantaire choked out a laugh as he slung his bag over his shoulder and they started the trek up the hill towards the house. “No, you laugh but I’m serious. It was bad. Anyway, no one told her and then there was once, I swear, she spent like four days straight in that room. She said she was working on her masterpiece. And when she came out, she showed us.” He was silent for a long time and Grantaire stopped walking for a second, waiting for the punchline.

“Okay,” Grantaire said, “I’m intrigued. What was the painting?”

“A vagina.”

“What?”

“I swear to God, it was a large oil painting of a vagina. And when she showed us, we were all immediately like ‘ummm Belle, what is it?’ And she smiled her perfect smile and said ‘nothing, guys, its abstract!’ and so we pretended like it was great. I mean, I was like eight, so I didn’t appreciate exactly what was wrong with the painting, so I wasn’t lying as much. I mean, I didn’t really like that it was all in pinks and reds, but I didn’t see the fuss. So I was like ‘eh’. But it went on for years. Allie hung it up in her _room_ for fuck’s sake. And Belle stopped painting. And then years later, I was seventeen and talking to Belle, who I had gotten closer to over the years and one night I was just like, ‘hey Belle, you know that painting is a vagina, right?’ And she nodded and said, completely cool, ‘yeah, Courf. Thanks for telling me. I didn’t paint it, actually. I had my friend Alex climb through the window and help me paint it because I was horrible at painting. And no one told me. Ever. So I drew them a giant vagina and watched them pretend to love it.’” Courf stopped his story and reached over to ring the doorbell. Grantaire’s eyebrows were probably near his hairline.

“Seriously?” He asked choking back laughter, “It tooks nine years? _Nine years?_ ” Courfeyrac shrugged.

“People really like Belle.” He said with a smile, and then they were both laughing when a tall brunette swung the door open wide.

“Speak of the devil!” Courfeyrac screamed, dropping his bags and scooping up the girl in a bear hug.

“ _Daniel_!” she screamed and Grantaire was momentarily caught off guard by the use of his first name, even if Courf had warned him it would happen, “My God! It’s been too long!” Courfeyrac kissed her cheek as he pulled back and then grabbed Grantaire’s hand.

“It has been. But here, I bring a consolation prize! My boyfriend, Grantaire.” Grantaire smiled and Belle’s eyes widened.

“I forgot. Mom mentioned you were bringing someone new…” She turned an appraising eye on him and Grantaire tried not to blush as Courfeyrac groaned his sister’s name.

“It’s really nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Grantaire fibbed, shifting both bags to one shoulder and holding out his right hand. She took it slowly, her grip firm.

“Yeah? Well, I wish I could say the same about you.” She said, turning her gaze to Courf with one eyebrow lifted. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and pushed past her into the foyer, Grantaire and Belle following behind him.

“Please, that is hardly my fault. You’ve been in a third world country for the past seven months, without a cell phone.”

“You could’ve written.” Belle deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly before shrugging. “But whatever. We’ll see how he is, although lemme tell you, you’re already shaping up better than some of the other goons Daniel has brought around.” She said with a chuckle.

“ _Belle_.”

“He once brought a guy who wore a polo shirt, like a real polo shirt. Straight out of the fucking country club this guy was. _Such_ a douche.”

“Belly, _we_ belong to a country club.” Courfeyrac reasoned

“Yeah but we don’t _broadcast_ it.” Belle whispered, aghast. Grantaire laughed and Belle winked at him as she grabbed his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room. It’s just Daniel’s old one, but I figure you wanna set your stuff down before you meet the family. They’re all in the kitchen, by the way.” She said as she led them up a rather impressive staircase.

“All?” Courfeyrac asked skeptically, and a little scared.

“Well not all. Aunt Maggie and her troop won’t be here until Christmas Eve, thank God.” Belle stopped at a door at the far end of the hall and turned to Courf dramatically “You did prepare him, right?”

“I tried.” Courf shrugged before pushing past her and into what he assumed was their room for the duration of the stay. “He wouldn’t listen to me.” Belle turned her glare to him and Grantaire was only able to not shrink back because of years of … well, Enjolras.

“You’ve got a big storm coming, honey.”

“You people have _got_ to stop saying that. Please.”

###

The two of them took their time unpacking, getting used to the room, they said, telling Belle to go downstairs ahead of them and that they’d follow a little later. It was weird, having Grantaire in the room that he honestly hadn’t changed since he left after high school. He’d liked to think he’d changed a lot since then. Like, a lot a lot. For God’s sake he still had Spice Girls posters up on the walls, but Grantaire seemed to take it in stride. If anything, he looked around the room… fondly. And didn’t that just make Courfeyrac’s heart race.

“You ready?” Grantaire asked after he finished perusing Courfeyrac’s old bookshelf and Courf had emerged from the bathroom.

“Are _you_ ready?” He teased, well, he half-teased. Grantaire laughed and pulled him close, kissing his cheek once.

“Born ready, _Daniel_.” He whispered in his ear before breezing by him and pulling him out the door and down the hall. Courfeyrac groaned loudly.

“You are not allowed to call me that!” Grantaire laughed and shook his head, his curls flying with the dramatic movement.

“I think I will. It’s so cute, with the French pronunciation and everything. _Daniel._ ” Courfeyrac glared at the back of his head as they walked down the stairs.

“Yeah, it’s not so cute when you’re eleven and people make fun of you for having a girl’s name. Stupid gender binaries.” He grumbled and Grantaire stopped on the ledge and spun around, pushing his bottom lip out in a way that he was sure was supposed to be sad but just came out extremely tempting.

“Poor baby…” Grantaire crooned, tucking his head under Courf’s neck, which usually was impossible because Courf and Grantaire were both of the same average height, but with the help of the stairs cuddling was made much easier.

“I know, I’m very scarred. I’m going to need lots of kisses to make this better…” He trailed off, pushing Grantaire off of his shoulder so he could grab his chin and pull him towards his lips.

“Well I _guess_ I can help with that-”

“Excuse me?” Belle announced from the bottom of the stairs, just as their lips were about to touch, “Can you two stop with the gayness and please come say hi to everyone. People are asking about you.” Courfeyrac was impressed that she only managed to sound 68% smug about ruining their moment. He just sighed and pushed passed Grantaire, grabbing his hand along the way.

“You cannot ask me to cut out the gay. It is too intrinsically interweaved in my soul.” Belly made a gagging noise and Grantaire laughed before cutting in with, “I would just like to add that I am bi. Not gay.”

“Duly noted. They moved to the backyard, by the way. After mom finished baking the brownies.” Belle said as she pushed open the door to the kitchen, waving at them to hurry up as they walked along the hallway.

“Wow,” Courf commented, “You’re lucky, R. When I told her I was bi, she saing N’Sync’s Bye Bye Bye at me for like three hours straight.”

“Oh, do you want me to that now? I can do that if you want me to.” Belle teased, pointing a finger at R.

“Nah, I’ve always been more of a Backstreet Boys fan.” Grantaire explained. Both Belle and Courf stopped in the middle of the kitchen (one that Grantaire _knew_ would’ve made Combeferre’s mouth water. It was a pretty kick-ass kitchen).

“Oh my God, really? That’s… not okay, Grantaire.” Belle said and Grantaire laughed, shrugging.

“I mean, they’re just better. I may or may not know the entire dance to their _Everybody_ music video.” Grantaire whispered suggestively. Belle barked out a laugh.

“Oh my _God._ I have got to see that one day.” She emphasized and Courf nodded.   

“Me too… God, you must’ve been the _biggest loser_ as a teenager.” Courfeyrac teased as he pulled Grantaire close, kissing his cheek. His heart fluttered when his boyfriend laughed.

“I didn’t even know you could dance, R!” Belle said as they walked towards the sliding back door, “Even if your dedication doesn’t change my mind that N’Sync is better, that is pretty impressive. I like _you_ more at least.” R rolled his eyes and opened the backdoor for them both. Belle walked out confidently, and Courf went to follow but quickly noticed that Grantaire wasn’t walking after him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked quietly as they heard the sounds of people around the corner greeting Belle as she walked over.

“I’m just a little nervous all of a sudden? I mean, what if they don’t like me? I’m not super experienced with the whole… family thing.”

“They’re gonna love you. I love you. There’s nothing _not to_ love.” Courfeyrac assured, and even though it was obvious R didn’t 100% believe it, Grantaire nodded. He loved Courfeyrac so… things would go well. Right?

###

Things were going _so well._ Grantaire almost couldn’t believe how quickly he got along with Courfeyrac’s family. He’d been a little nervous. Honestly, the closest he got with actual _family_ family was the few years he spent with Combeferre’s family. And with despite the amount of love that emanated from that household, it wasn’t big. It was really just Combeferre, his mom and dad, and his sister Cara. They weren’t big on extended family so… Grantaire was a little worried the dynamic would overwhelm him.  

But he literally had nothing to worry about. From the _second_ they had walked through the patio door and around the corner of Courf’s ridiculously impressive backyard, the (what seemed to Grantaire) insane number of family members had greeted him with open arms. Courf’s – sorry, _Daniel’s_ mother and father were the first to get up and introduce themselves, and then there were the five brothers and sisters besides Belle, and then all the brothers and sisters-in law, and then a few nieces and nephews who barely stood above Grantaire’s knee but who gave him hugs nonetheless.

There were a lot of hugs. Like, Grantaire expected _some_ hugs, but definitely less hugs. After everyone had been introduced and R had a mini-panic attack in his mind over all those fucking names, they were sat around the table eating brownies Courfeyrac’s oldest brother had made them.  They’d been talking about a lot of things, shifting subjects from Allie (Courfeyrac’s middle sister) and her recent announcement of pregnancy (which was significant given as she wasn’t married or in a relationship and was simply ready to have a kid, so she went to one of those insemination places), to Belle’s doctoral exploits, to Michael (Courf’s oldest brother) and his work at his law firm in Arizona, to-

“So Grantaire,” to Daniel’s new boyfriend. Yikes. “Tell us about yourself! We feel like we barely know you!” Courfeyrac’s mother (Aurelie) said after a short lull in conversation. Grantaire sat up straighter under the newfound scrutiny and he felt Courf’s hand squeeze his a little tighter. The question had caught him a little off-guard, embarrassingly enough. He’d gotten lost in the comforting flow of the family’s conversation, their familiarity and fondness had made him feel a lot like he had back in New York, sitting around at Musichetta’s with… everyone. He’d forgotten how good that could feel, even if he was more of a passive observer than a participant this time. Nonetheless, it also allowed him to forget the inevitability of well… letting people get to know him.

“Yeah, Daniel is sort of the worst correspondent in the world.” Courf’s father (James/Jamie) said with a wide smile that was alarmingly similar to Courfeyrac’s. “So tell us something. You’re in the music school with Danny, right?” Grantaire turned to Courf and grinned at the nickname, and his boyfriend rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“Yeah, I am. That’s where we met. Um, I’m a Piano Performance Major. I already have my multi-subject teaching credentials, but music has always been a passion of mine and if I have the degree, schools will be more likely to hire me to strengthen their music programs as well, which is something that’s pretty important to me.” Grantaire explained, receiving collective nods from around the table.

“Hmm, and where are you from?” Aurelie asked next.

“New York. Born in Brooklyn, but after some family troubles I moved around a little here and there and ended up in Manhattan, somehow, before moving out here for school.”

“Oh, that’s so far!” Aurelie exclaimed, “Your parents must miss you terribly! Danny didn’t even go that far and it still feels like he’s _worlds_ away!” She smiled at him in the friendliest of ways and Grantaire felt his stomach roll.

“Um, actually my parents died when I was… pretty young.” Grantaire clarified, a little uncomfortable. It was the truth and he didn’t know why he felt weird saying it now. He’d come to terms with is parents’ death a while ago. But surrounded by people who were so family-oriented, the whole thing made him feel sort of … wrong.

“Oh no, honey, I’m so sorry.” Aurelie apologized adamantly, breaking the awkward silence that had descended over the table, but only for a moment. It quickly returned and Grantaire wanted to kick himself for his stupid mouth-

“Did you know that Grantaire’s a dancer?” Belle added a moment later, breaking the tense silence and making Grantaire bark out a laugh. The family jumped at the opportunity for a subject change, though, and Grantaire was happy to go along, even if it wasn’t that big of a jump.

“Really?”

“No he’s not, Belle exaggerates.” Courf said with a laugh before taking a big bite of his brownie.

“Actually, yeah. Um, I am.” Courfeyrac looked at him incredulously as he chewed.

“Knowing Backstreet Boys’ routines doesn’t make you a dancer, _babe_.” Courfeyrac teased once his food went down, making everyone laugh.

“No! I know that,” Grantaire said through laughs, “But, actually, my mother was a ballerina. My father was her concert pianist. That’s how they met.”

“Aww, how lovely.” June, Michael’s wife (who was stunningly beautiful, green eyes and dark skin, the contrast of which made Grantaire itch for oil paints) added. Grantaire nodded with a blush.

“Yeah, so I was trained pretty young. Ballet, jazz, tap, ballroom, etc. I stopped formal classes around 16, when school got a little hard for me to keep up with, but I still love it.”

“I didn’t know that.” Courfeyrac whispered, tugging on his hand softly, a small, fond smile etched on his face. Grantaire kissed him on the cheek and shrugged. “You’re amazing. I swear, there isn’t anything he _can’t_ do.” Courf groaned, now addressing the rest of the group, “Belly, he can even paint. And when I say that I mean he can paint things _other_ than vaginas.”

“Well, what’s even the point of that?”

###

“Hey R,” Courf said into Grantaire’s neck, where he was curled up close to him on the balcony. They had somehow managed to slip away from the party, away from the beautiful suits and dresses and even more beautiful people with their horrible glares and smiles and _questions_. It was a huge relief to be on the third floor, alone with his boyfriend, the noise of the party only a distant buzz and hum of a melody.

“Yeah, Courf?” he asked. He was laying back on the couch, his eyes closed, soaking in the peacefulness.

“It’s New Years’ you know, pretty significant day…”

“Yes, babe, I am aware-”

“I’m really glad you’re here with me.” Courf whispered. He’d moved into Grantaire’s lap, straddling his legs and kissing him once on the lips to silence whatever he had been about to say. A fond smile spread across Grantaire’s face that he couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to.

“Me too.” Courfeyrac grinned back and laced their hands together.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“A favor?”

“Yes, a favor. A small one, I promise.”

“A _small_ one?”

“Well, yes. Small in the grand scheme of the universe and-”

“Courfeyrac, it’s like an hour to midnight. I don’t wanna miss the fireworks and I really don’t wanna miss my chance to kiss you. This favor better be _quick_.” Courfeyrac smirked and kissed R once on the cheek before hoping off his lap. Grantaire groaned and made grabby hands at the retreating figure. “ _Baby_ , don’t leave me!”

He heard Courf laughing inside and he also heard him rummaging in their drawers. He returned a minute later, this time in sweatpants (he’d changed out of that suit damn quick, it was impressive) and holding R’s cell.

“What’s that for?” Grantaire asked. Courf plopped down on the couch next to him and handed him the phone.

“I want you to call your friends.” Courf stated, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Grantaire’s eyes widened and he was about to voice his vehement protest, but Courf cut him off. “No. Don’t argue, R. I know you said you always were together New Years and I know you don’t talk about them much, but I _know you_ and I _know_ you miss them. And you have an out, if it gets awkward. You have to get back to the party, blah, blah, blah. Whatever. Just call them. For me?” Grantaire worried his lip between his teeth for a long moment before sighing.

“Courf-”

“No, okay. I will drop this right now if you can look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you don’t miss any of them. At all.” The silence hung heavy between them.

“Okay, gimme the phone.” He grabbed it and tried to think of who to dial, who was the least scary person to talk to first after months of dead air. He looked up after he came up blank. “Are you gonna stay here and listen?”

“Nah, I’m gonna go get Belly and her and Nathan are gonna help me steal some champagne and strawberries from the kitchen. You gonna be okay without me?” Grantaire nodded a little too vigorously to be convincing.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine… of course I will. This isn’t scary, I’m just stupid.  

“Yes, babe. You are stupid.” Grantaire shoved him away and laughed as Courfeyrac walked out the room with his hands up and the momentary lapse in thought pushed him to press the call button. And then it was happening.

“Jehan and Bahorel’s! May I ask who is calling forty minutes to midnight?” And seriously, who answers a house phone like that, all formal and polite? Only Jehan. Hell, only Jehan would even _own_ a house phone in this day and age. And Grantaire remembered it too, it had that rotating dial thing and everything. So lame.

Before he could answer, he heard cheers in the background, distinctly Bossuet and Cosette, singing along to Shut Up and Dance in harmony, Cosette the voice of an angel and Bossuet… not. He barked out a laugh before he could get out words, fondness overwhelming him. He swore, if he closed his eyes he could be there too. Cosette and Bossuet standing on the coffee table singing loudly, Marius, Eponine, Joly, and Chetta staring up that them lovingly, clapping and dancing along. Feuilly and Combeferre mixing drinks in the kitchen, Bahorel trying to coax a blushing and slightly tipsy Enjolras into dancing with him, Jehan and Montparnasse setting off those little popper things at extremely unexpected times. God, Courf was right. He missed them.

“… Grantaire?” Jehan asked. Part of Grantaire was shocked that they recognized him just from his laugh, but more logically it was just that they knew no one else would call on New Year’s Eve.

“Hey _mon papillon_.” He managed to whisper and Jehan gasped.

“You guys!” they yelled, addressing the room, “Grantaire is calling! Grantaire is on the phone!!” Grantaire laughed at their enthusiasm, warmth spreading through his stomach and tears springing to his eyes. He heard their shuffle and after a long moment they seemed to be ready. “Okay, R. You’re on speaker now, we’re all listening!” That was followed by a barrage of _hello_ s and _we miss you_ s, some loud and overwhelming (Bahorel and Marius) and some long and rambling (Eponine and Joly).

“Hey guys! Happy New Year! I miss you guys so much, too.” he said and it felt lame. So so _so_ lame, because it was the first thing he’d said to his best friends in like nine months and he couldn’t think of anything else. After a sort of awkward silence, it was Jehan who of course finally broke in.

“We’re really glad you called, R.” And then the whole chorus gradually joined in.

“Yeah! It’s been too long, man! How’s Cali? Have you met any celebrities?” (Bossuet)

“Are you like super tan now? Do you own heart-shaped sunglasses?” (Bahorel)

“How are your classes? Are you still a nerd like when we were in college?” (Cosette)

“How’s In-N-Out? Is Sunnydale a real place? Have you visited Sunnydale yet?” (Montparnasse)

“Have you had any earthquakes? Did you get your flu shot?” (Joly)

“On a scale from 9 to 10 how much do you miss New York? Do you dream about the Statue of Liberty?” (Marius)

“Okay! Enough!” Eponine cut in, “Give him some fucking time to answer!”

“Thanks Ep,” Grantaire laughed, a little overwhelmed, “Now I’m only going to answer the ones I remember because some of those were dumb and you were talking over each other so, that’s really not my fault now, is it? So, no, no celebrities, heart-shaped sunglasses, or Sunnydale. In-N-Out has hella good shakes and fries and yes, I just used the word hella. Also, they don’t call it Cali, _come on guys_. It’s California. And like two earthquakes? But nothing too scary. And yes, Joly, they give out free flu shots here, so I’m all safe. And 10. Oh, and I was never a nerd, what the fuck.” There was solid minute of them mumbling to each other, choruses of laughter and _good answers_ and _wow he really said hella_ and one distinct _he was a huge nerd, I remember_. “So what’s new with you guys?”

They filled him in for a couple more minutes, on the law firm, on Joly’s residency, Cosette’s dad, Gavroche, etc. Grantaire loved how easy it was to fall back into the same old rhythm with them, no hostility or tension, like he had never even left. Honestly, he didn’t deserve this, how much they loved him.

“Hey guys, drinks are made!” A voice cut through the speaker, the sound of a door swinging closed following. “What are you all doing?” Grantaire felt his heart beat immeasurably faster because _fuck_. Yeah, that was why he was afraid to call. Somehow, in the chaos of his old friends, he hadn’t realized that Combeferre and Enjolras must’ve not been in the room. But now they were. It was silent again for a moment and Grantaire heard the clinking of glasses, probably one of them setting down that giant ugly gold plate that Jehan had to carry all the drinks.

“Grantaire called!” Eponine said, exaggerated cheeriness.

“Grantaire?” He heard Feuilly’s voice ask, excited and shocked.

“Hey Feuilly!” Grantaire choked out and then after another tense silence he heard muffled protestations and then a voice that sounded an awful lot like Jehan shushing them all. “Umm…”

“Grantaire?” Combeferre asked, his voice much closer this time.

“Am I off speaker?” He asked dumbly.

“Um, yeah. Eponine tossed me the phone and I … moved us to the guest room. For privacy.” Oh God, and Grantaire had to bite his tongue not to make an inappropriate comment about privacy that would’ve been so natural a year ago. “So, um… how have you been?”

“… Fine. Yeah, real good. Umm, it’s pretty great here. How have you been? How are the kids?”

“Good! Really, super good… they miss you, of course, as do the ladies in the office, but… it’s good, I guess.” Combeferre answered and Grantaire nodded, even though obviously that helped further the conversation _not at all_. They were quiet as Grantaire grappled for something to say. Right as he was about to go the coward’s way out and say he had to get back to the party, Combeferre finally spoke.

“You never call, R.” Grantaire was developing a new appreciation for the term ‘frog-in-your-throat’.

“Yeah, well, I… it never seemed like the time. I wouldn’t have known what to… what to say, I guess.” Grantaire mumbled, picking at a loose thread on the quilt beneath him. Combeferre barked out a laugh that wasn’t happy and Grantaire could hear him take in a long breath.

“So…why tonight?” Ferre asked quietly, “Feeling nostalgic?”

“Yeah, a little. Mostly it was because…” What was he supposed to say? _My boyfriend who I love, who I met three months after I broke up with you asked me to because he’s too good for me and genuinely cares about my mental state, so much so that he wants to put me in touch with the previous loves of my life, just to make sure I have complete closure_? A little too wordy for him.

“What? Why?” Combeferre pressed, a note of desperation and hope in his voice.

“A friend told me it would be a good idea.”

“Oh,” Combeferre whispered, “A friend.” Grantaire really didn’t want to do this. _Fuck_ why did he already mention Courfeyrac? Now it was going to look like he was trying to flaunt him and that _really_ was not what he wanted to do.

“Yeah, a friend.”

“So…I…Like, a good friend? I mean, are you two- you know? I mean, it’s cool if you are… that’s cool, you’re an adult and I assume they’re an adult… and-”

“Combeferre!” Grantaire cut-in, running a finger through his curls tiredly, “Is this really what you wanna talk about right now?” Combeferre sighed and Grantaire could vividly see him shaking his head in defeat and kicking his shoes on the carpet softly.

“No.” he muttered petulantly.

“Good. Me neither… so, what do you wanna talk about?”

R heard silence on the other end for about ten seconds followed by a short laugh and Grantaire felt like the air cleared a little.

“Um… wanna know why my mom thinks I’m extremely well-versed in the preparation of Korean Barbecue?”

“Absolutely I do.”

…

“And so, I’m line, stuck in my car with no way out and like people just keep coming up to the window! All I want is my goddamn burrito, but people keep asking me what happened, what did she say to me, etc. etc. and my roommate is just _dying_ laughing in the passenger seat and I’m pretty sure my face was _beet red_!”

“ _R,_ you never blush!” Combeferre managed between laughs.

“I know! Anyway…”

…

“Then, I was talking to Bahorel later that week, and he tells me that, get this, _not only_ is the guy rumored to be a _trained Russian spy_ , apparently he also dated _Oprah_!”

“Oh my God! Oprah?!”

“Oprah.”

“And you rear-ended him?”

“And I rear-ended him.”

…

“Well, that seems like a really great opportunity for you.” Combeferre said, the smile evident in his voice.

“Yeah! It is, seriously. It’s like, well, to be honest I hate the work. It’s not what I would’ve chosen like ever, but it’s the like connectedness that it gives me, you know? Like the fact that I’m working with other people and giving up things for them… it blurs all the other stuff away? Does that make sense? You know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, R, I do.” Combeferre said fondly. “I do wanna hear about him, though.” Combeferre whispered after the pause became a small but notable lull in conversation, making Grantaire smile sadly.

“I think you would _really_ like him, Ferre.”

“I think I’d hate him.” He responded immediately, and Grantaire couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“No. You might try to, but he’s too good. And I _know_ , you two would get along at the drop of a hat, I’m serious. There have been so many times where he’s said something and I _immediately_ thought of you and…” Grantaire shook his head with a grimace, “Ah shit, I’m sorry. That’s… you don’t wanna hear that.” Combeferre chuckled.

“Honestly, R, I’d listen to you talk like that about anything. I miss you. You and your passionate ramblings.” They both laughed and the silence that followed was a little more comfortable this time.

“I miss you too, Ferre, and-”

“Grantaire?” R looked over his shoulder and saw Courf at the balcony door, holding a bottle of champagne with a bowl of strawberries balanced on his arm. “It’s almost midnight, love.” R nodded and smiled, gesturing for Courf to come sit next to him.

“R?” Combeferre asked over the phone, and Grantaire’s heart felt a little like it was being ripped in two. Or maybe like a dull ache was reawakened, like half his heart was still in New York, and the other half was here, with Courf. He ached to be whole again.

“Sorry, Ferre. It’s… it’s almost midnight. We should go. You should find Enj.” He whispered, grateful for Courf’s hand on his.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah sure, but… were you about to say something, before?” Grantaire thought about it before deciding that no. No good would come of whatever train of thought he had been about to express. And the hopefulness in Combeferre’s voice… too much, it was too much.

“Nah, it doesn’t matter now. Go, have a good night. Tell everyone I love them.”

“Okay. Well, goodbye, R. And I’ll tell them… all of them?” Grantaire tried not to let that hurt, didn’t follow that lead.

“All of them. Bye, Ferre.”

“Bye.” He pulled back and pushed the little red button, and then immediately threw himself onto Courfeyrac, burying his face in his boyfriend’s neck and trying not to freak-out. Luckily, Courf didn’t laugh or push him off and ask for an explanation. He just wrapped his arms around him tight and ran a gentle hand through R’s curls, soothing and grounding.

###

After a long moment of just sitting together in silence, Grantaire said he felt like he could get up and talk without having a panic attack, so he sat up slowly.

“How’d it go?” Courfeyac asked gently, once they were situated comfortably.

“Um, pretty good? Weirdly good? I talked to Combeferre.” Grantaire whispered. Courf nodded and took a deep breath and a big swig of champagne before replying.

“You know, whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’m ready to listen.” Grantaire sat there for a long moment before nodding slowly.

“I know, love. I know.” He reached back and kissed him softly on the lips before smiling a little bitterly. “I’m not there quite yet but… I will be. With you.” He said confidently, before turning around and cuddling up to Courf’s chest as they both watched the fireworks start.

###

Combeferre hung up the phone and promptly rolled so his face was smuhsed into the pillow next to him and groaned really very pathetically. His head hurt. Grantaire had called. He’d talked to Grantaire and it hadn’t been horrible. It had actually been great, but…

_You should go find Enj._

_Fuck_ , he had said it so casually. Did he really not know they weren’t together? Did he think Combeferre would just not care about everything that had happened? Did he really… did he really already forgive Enjolras?

Combeferre sighed and looked down at Jehan’s phone. It was six minutes to midnight and Combeferre didn’t know what to do. Because, fuck, of course he missed Enjolras. It was so unexplainably hard to see him every week, at meetings and birthdays and get-togethers with friends and _not be in love with him._

It was just… he wasn’t mad anymore, that’s true. He was just sad, sad that Grantaire was gone, sad that Enjolras lied to him for so long, sad that the perfect life he thought he had was just a fantasy he’d drummed up by ignoring the truth. And somehow it seemed like forgiving Enjolras would be… too easy. They’d fucked up and did they deserve to have the relationship if Grantaire wasn’t there?

R thought they did.

And Combeferre _wanted_ it.

It was selfish and stupid but he didn’t want to hurt _alone_ anymore.

So he was gonna do it. In the other room he could hear people starting to count down thirty seconds to midnight. He waited a few more seconds because hell, if he was going to do this it was going to be dramatic. When they were at ten he walked out, dropped Jehan’s phone next to where they were sitting on Bahorel’s lap on the couch, and looked for Enj. He was by the window, looking out at the fireworks next to Montparnasse and ‘Ponine. Combeferre took a deep breath and strode over, reaching just in time to grab his hand and tug him close as his friends got the 3-2-1, and he kissed him.

He ignored the confused look on his adorable face and kissed him. Enjolras gasped a little against his lips but quickly sunk into it wrapped his arms around Combeferre’s neck, tugging him even closer.

It felt _so damn good_.

“Um… does this mean…”

“It means I love you.” Combeferre cut him off, and the shock and Enjolras’ face, the widening of his eyes and the hint of a smile that began to spread almost broke Combeferre’s heart. “And I wanna make this work. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. So much Ferre.” Enjolras said desperately, kissing Combefere again, pulling him as close as he could. “I’m so sorry, Combeferre, for everything, I’ll never-”

“Stop, Enj.” Combeferre whispered, “It’s a new year, right? We’ll give it a fresh start. You and me.”

“You and me. Okay.”

###

**_1 Year and 8 Months After_ **

“This is the first time in the relationship I have felt so distinctly and overwhelmingly like the less attractive one.” Courfeyrac mused, laughing a moment later as a startled Grantaire ripped out his headphones and clutched dramatically at this chest.

“Oh my God!” he yelled at Courfeyrac, who was leaning on the doorframe nonchalantly, holding their bag of Chinese food at his hip. “You scared me, asshole!” He flicked his brush at Courf lightly, spraying him with flecks of blue paint and making him squeal a little, laughing and finally moving into the room.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.” Courf said with a shrug as he curled up on the couch R had set up in the room, setting out their food on the coffee table. “But long enough to see how cute you are when you paint.” he teased, and R flushed a remarkable shade of pink. Courfeyrac honestly didn’t know he could blush like that, had never seen his boyfriend blush quite like that. But with his pale skin it was easier to see; Courf was lucky, he blushed all the fucking time, but with his tanner skin and freckles it wasn’t nearly as noticeable, thank God.  

Anyway, Grantaire really was a sight for sore eyes when he was painting, his brow all furrowed in concentration, rocking back and forth on the balls off his feet as he considered the canvas in front of him. He somehow got paint in the weirdest spots on his skin (stretching from his ear to mid-neck, the back of his bicep, _all over_ his hair and jeans, striped along his collarbone, etc… he was a mess), but he still looked good enough to eat.

He seemed calm in a way Courfeyrac had never seen him before, and yet there was this undeniable fire behind his eyes as well. It was a damn good look.

“Shut up.” Grantaire mumbled, turning back to his painting. Courf smiled widely and shook his head. For all his talent, R was still shit at accepting (and believing the sincerity in) compliments. Courfeyrac tossed his fork and box of teriyaki and hopped off the couch. He sidled up to Grantaire’s side and wrapped his arms around his waist, tucking his face into the crook of his neck and kissing him lightly. Grantaire giggled and groaned, simultaneously wiggling back into Courf’s embrace and pretending like he didn’t love the attention.

“I am not cute.” Grantaire muttered petulantly and Courfeyrac laughed his skin. Grantaire leaned his head back on Courf’s shoulder and chuckled a little too.

“You are though, so very cute.” Courfeyrac argued. “Hmmm…. How is it that we’ve been friends for so long and this is the first time I’ve walked in on you painting?” Grantaire shrugged noncommittally.

“I don’t really do it if I don’t have enough time to commit to it? I like to give it my full attention, you know? And I’m usually pretty busy, so.” He shrugged again and Courf nodded against his shoulder, still sucking gently on Grantaire’s exposed skin (avoiding the areas streaked with paint).

“You’re pretty good. Not that I know much about painting, but it looks damn good to me.” Courfeyrac muttered. R smiled and breathed out a laugh.

“You think?”

“Yeah. You should do it more often. It looks like it makes you happy.” Courfeyrac explained, and Grantaire smiled wider before setting down his pallet and brush and turning around in Grantaire’s arms.

“ _You_ make me happy.” Grantaire kissed him once on the nose and then once on the lips and Courfeyrac felt that bubbliness that he’s been conditioned to associate with Grantaire flush through his body.

“Sap.” Courfeyrac muttered, even though his heart was hammering so hard it was probably hurting R. “Let’s go eat. You can pause right?”

“Yeah, I can pause. Let’s eat, _babe._ ” Courfeyrac groaned as he tugged R to the couch, but when they sat down, he sidled up close and kissed him once more on the lips.

“You make me happy too, R. So happy.”

###

**_2 Years and 11 Months After_ **

The two of them lay back in bed, gasping for breath and coming down from the high of the last… two hours. Grantaire laughed breathlessly and tugged Courfeyrac on top of him, so that he could kiss his lips sweetly, a gentle give and take that was an intoxicating dichotomy to the hard and desperate way they’d been previously.

“Happy Anniversary.” He muttered as he pulled away, making Courf smile blissfully.

“Happy Anniversary, love.” Courfeyrac replied before sitting up reluctantly. “I’m gonna get stuff to clean us up. You want water or anything while I’m out of bed? Because once I get back in there I am not leaving for _anything_.” He emphasized. Grantaire laughed and shook his head, content to just lie back and watch Courfeyrac move around the room with a grace most people can’t manage clothed, let alone naked.

Grantaire sighed happily when Courf finished cleaning them up, nuzzling into his arms contentedly and turning so they could rest their foreheads together and exchange kisses lazily.

“It’s been a pretty good two years.” Grantaire muttered happily and Courfeyrac smiled against his lips.

“Yeah, it has, hasn’t it… you know, I’m pretty sure you and me,” Courf mused, pointing back and forth between the two of them, “this is the longest relationship I’ve ever had.”

“Really?” Grantaire asked, a little surprised. Not that it was all that uncommon of an idea, just… Courf was perfect. How could no one else have seen that?  

“Yeah… I mean the only other person who even came _close_ was Jessica, back at Stanford. And we dated for… a little over year? Probably right around a year.”

“What happened?” Courf shrugged.

“We just grew apart. It wasn’t anything big or dramatic, it was just… you know, I had my problems and so did she and we both grew distant. Eventually it was like we just stopped dating before we even broke up.”

“Were you sad?” Grantaire asked gently and Courfeyrac smiled a little in thought.

“I mean, maybe? If anything I was sad because I felt like it was my fault, like I pushed her away. But we both did our part in ensuring that relationship would last, so. It really wasn’t anything big. I had fun with her, while it lasted. We were good friends, if nothing else.”

“That’s a pretty healthy way to look at it.” Grantaire mumbled, impressed. Courf shrugged again, smiling wryly.

“Well, therapy did me good then.” He answered, only sounding slightly bitter. Grantaire thought about it for a minute, weighed the pros and cons of continuing down this road of conversation. He looked at Courfeyrac, biting gently on his bottom lip and avoiding Grantaire’s gaze, and decided to change the subject.

“Who else has there been? How many other relationships?” Grantaire asked and Courf jumped on the offer.

“Well, how far back do you wanna go?” Courf teased. Grantaire chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“All the way back. I wanna know everything.” Grantaire said and Courfeyrac got a funny look in his eyes but nodded.

“Yeah, I know how that feels… okay, well. Elementary school was a bit of a dry spell for me.” Courfeyrac admitted, making it sound like a shameful thing and R laughed.

“That’s _awful_. How did you make it through?”     

“I know right? I’m very strong. Anyway, my first girlfriend was in eighth grade, Sierra. I don’t remember why I liked her? But we went to the eighth grade dance together and her mom made me this weird green smoothie that I didn’t want to drink, but I felt like I had to because I was meeting the parents so I had to make a good impression, right?” Grantaire laughed and tucked his head into Courfeyrac’s neck, hiding the smile he couldn’t suppress. He loved listening to Courfeyrac talk. “Then there was Mallory in ninth grade, we dated until the beginning of junior year, actually.” Grantaire hummed into Courf’s neck.

“Did you two… you know? Did she take you?” Grantaire asked and Courfyeac laughed loudly.

“Oh my God, you’re ridiculous. But no, actually. You’d think we would’ve? But, neither of us ever felt like it was the right time? But she was sweet and had really pretty hair and always smelled like apples, so that was a good experience. Then senior year there was Kennedy for a couple months and then… well, then there was Kevin… her older brother.” Grantaire’s jaw dropped and Courf flushed a little scarlett.

“No way!” Grantaire couldn’t hold back, “I mean no judgment here… it’s in the past and whatever, you’ve grown as an adult I’m sure but… did you cheat on her with her _brother_?”

“No! Oh God, no! It was… well it wasn’t better than that, but we were broken up when me and Kev… you know, when Kevin…”

“Took you?” Grantaire offered and Courfeyrac laughed and pushed him away playfully.

“Shut up! Yes, okay! Yes, he took my virginity a good four months after me and Kennedy broke up. I mean, me and weren’t even really official, anyway. We just messed around… it was. Okay, yeah whatever.” Courfeyrac said, covering his blushing cheeks with his hands and shaking his head. Grantaire grinned at how fucking cute his boyfriend was and the prodded him gently as he moved in close again. 

“Okay, I don’t judge you. So who else?”

“Umm… I mean I hooked up with a couple people freshman year? But not for long, because eventually I met Jessica and we dated a couple months up until… everything happened with me leaving and then. Well, there wasn’t anyone significant between the year and a half I took off from school and you.” Courfeyrac shrugged.

“No one significant?”

“Well, there were dates… mostly guys I met around my hometown, but none stood out. None like y _ou_.” He teased, kissing R once on the nose. Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“Hmm… you’re not wrong.”

They both laid there for a long moment, pausing conversation to kiss softly, before Courfeyrac pulled back and smiled a little.

“So is it your turn now?” he asked, a little nervous.

“What do you mean?”

“What about… your past relationships?” Courfeyrac managed to say, only stuttering minimally. Grantaire felt himself tense up, despite how much he tried not to. He was being ridiculous. He should… He should feel okay talking to Courfeyrac about this. It was time… it was-

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Courfeyrac added, the picture of patience, “I just… I want you to know I’m here… if you wanna talk about it? I know it was… bad, however it ended. And I’d like for you to feel like you can confide in me… but I get it if you can’t. I know it’s not about me and-”

“It’s not! I promise… it’s not that I don’t want you to know, I just…”

“It’s hard to talk about. I get it.” Courf nodded but nonetheless Grantaire felt a pang in his chest at the words. “We’re allowed to have pasts. We’re allowed to have secrets.” Courfeyrac whispered.

And _oh_. Grantaire knew what that was about. He knew Courfeyrac didn’t like to talk about… before? He would talk about high school and all his time with Grantaire, but there was a gray area, a few months before he came to school back to where he started college. Grantaire knew… practically nothing about that time in Courf’s life. All he knew was that it got him to Grantaire, but it definitely wasn’t an easy time for Courfeyrac.

“I don’t want that.” Grantaire said after a long moment. They’d both been laying there, silent, lost in their own thoughts for a while, and Courf might have even been drifting off to sleep, but he sat up at Grantaire’s words.

“What do you mean?” Courf asked warily.

“I don’t want secrets. I… want you to know me. Everything. God, if there’s anything I learned from that whole fiasco it’s that honesty is… fundamental. Nothing works without it.” Courferyac raised an eyebrow (even though he was so horrible at it, _God_ it was adorable how bad he was) and nodded slowly.

“So, um… what have you, I don’t know, deduced so far? Like, where should I start?” Grantaire asked tentatively. His thoughts were sort of… scattered. Despite how many times he had gone through in his mind him telling Courfeyrac this story, suddenly his mind was just… lost.

“Well, I know there were three of you? And that you knew … Combeferre for a really long time. And that… well, that’s pretty much all I know. So maybe just start at the beginning? And move on from there?”

“Yeah… okay. Yeah. Well, I met Combeferre in middle school.”

“Middle school? That first day we met… you said you’d known him since high school?” Courfeyrac cut in indignant. Grantaire grimaced.

“Oh, well, maybe I meant that’s when we started dating? But to be quite honest, I was probably just trying to make it seem like less of a deal that it really was…” Grantaire shrugged and then shook his head, looking down at his hands and kicking himself internally for how dramatic he was going to make this all seem, inevitably, “It was sort of a big deal.” Courfeyrac nodded and took one of R’s hands in his, probably to stop Grantaire from eventually ripping up the sheet he was worrying at.

“So, middle school, that’s when I met Combeferre. We didn’t meet Enjolras until… sophomore year of college. But I met him first and then Ferre and- wait. I’m getting off track. Actually, no, you really don’t need to go that far back, not to middle school. Especially since we didn’t actually, well, I didn’t actually realize how much I liked him until… ninth grade. But high school was… dramatic and full of lots of stories I will tell you one day but really aren’t prevalent now. So, yeah, I met Enjolras in my first round of college, when I was getting my credentials mostly, and I’d been with Combeferre for a _while_ …”

###

“Well, _fuck_.” Courfeyrac whispered, feeling quite incapable of anything else after listening to the whole story. “That… sucks.” He somehow managed to choke out. Grantaire was pretty quiet and Courfeyrac could feel him give a little nod, but he couldn’t see his face. Courfeyrac was too busy staring at the ceiling, processing, and R had his head resting on Courfeyrac’s shoulder, shielding his face.

“I’m so sorry, R…”

“Don’t be.” Grantaire muttered, “Yeah, break-ups suck and… no one acts perfectly during one and the circumstances were… shit. They were really shit, but… I don’t really regret anything.” Courfeyrac felt a little surprised at that, and so he scooched down on the bed so that he could lie face to face with R.

“Really? Nothing?” Grantaire nodded definitively.

“I mean, it got me here, right? And I’m… I’m better. I’m stronger now. I think before I tended to base a lot of my self-worth on… other people’s opinions of me. I built my life around them. Now, I know I have you and I _love_ you so _so_ much, but now… I’ve built my life around _me_. I’m proud of that. And losing what I thought I had with Combeferre and Enjolras… that was a big catalyst.”

“Wow. Look at you. You didn’t even need the therapy.” Courfeyrac mused and Grantaire barked out a laugh.

“Yeah, maybe. It wouldn’t have hurt, though.” Grantaire admitted, before pausing for a moment.

“So you just… stopped talking to all of them? Have you talked to them at all?” Courf asked, and he tried his best not to sound judgmental.

“I mean, Bossuet and Joly and I emailed back and forth for a while… I’m Facebook friends with all of them that have a Facebook… and yeah. That’s pretty much it. I’ve been a bit shit about it.” Grantaire shrugged, and Courf decided it was best not to press.

“You know… you can talk to me, too.” Grantaire added, “About… we can make it a truth-telling night. We’ll stay up all night and tell secrets and talk about boys and paint each other’s nails…” Courfeyrac laughed and shook his head.

“I dunno… as good as that sounds…” he trailed off and shrugged again. It was obvious he was trying to brush it off, but… Grantaire had to push. At least a little.

“What? You know there’s nothing you could tell me that would scare me off, so… I would like to know. If you wanna share…”

“Oh God, is that what I sounded like when I was trying to get you to talk? Ugh, you’re so supportive and reasonable and annoying.” Courferyac groaned, shoving his face into their pillow.

“Cooooourf!” Grantaire drawled, tugging him up so he could look him in the eye, “I don’t mean to pressure you. No pressure… just… presence? I don’t know, that still seems threatening.” Grantaire laughed.

“Yeah, a little.” Courfeyrac breathed in reply, before sitting up and moving so his legs were crisscross in front of R, “Okay. Um, long story short? In my junior year of pre-law, I attempted suicide.” _God that still feels as awful to say as it did the first time_.

“Oh God.” Grantaire muttered, face falling. Courf tried not to dwell on the stab of pain that rushed through him at that.

“Um, yeah. I was really stressed, you know? That and… well, I’ve suffered with manic depression for a while. My mother likes to say that I see so much good in the world that the bad hits me so much harder. I don’t know if I believe that, but… anyway, yeah. I was on a bunch of prescription drugs at the time, of course, for depression and anxiety and… I just threw a bunch back and chased it with some tequila and… I thought that was it.” Grantaire was staring at him with his mouth slightly dropped, eyes wide, and Courf didn’t know why but that look made him panic.

“Yeah, I thought I’d done it at a time where no would find me until late? My roommate had gone to a party and he never really came back until after he had fucked someone, so… but apparently he forgot something in the room, condoms ironically, and… he saw me passed out. I didn’t really drink anymore, because of the medication so, he freaked out and… saved my life. I hated him for a really long time.” Courf admitted reluctantly. Grantaire took one of his hands in his own, but his face still looked frozen.

“They pulled me out of school after that… I didn’t write a note or anything, but it wasn’t hard for them to realize why I did it, so. I spent some time in a psychiatric ward in Arizona. It was like a really long really intensive retreat. It was nice… sort of. I mean, I knew it was time to get help. I wasn’t suicidal anymore. I just felt… trapped. So I wanted to make things better. And that place was… good. It was good. Hard. God, it’s still hard, today, and it was like fifty times harder back then, but. Um, yeah. I don’t really know what else to say? It was a lot of shit to deal with. The whole being depressed and then the repercussions of… everything… I just… _fuck_ am I the _worst_ storyteller ever, or what?” he tried to joke, but Grantaire just looked at him sadly and Courfeyrac realized that his hands were shaking.

“You don’t have to talk anymore, if you don’t want to, love.” Grantaire whispered and Courf nodded, but he still opened his mouth to speak a few more times.

“I think I… but there’s more to say, I just…” Courfeyrac tried to get out, but Grantaire shushed him gently before tugging him close and wrapping his arms around him completely.

“I love you, Courf.” Grantaire whispered after he had settled them back in a position where they were laying down, so Grantaire could hold him more effectively. Courfeyrac appreciated it s _o much_ because his hands were still shaking and his legs felt like jelly and his head was getting a little fuzzy and, yeah. Grantaire had felt so nice and he always smelled so good, like paint and hardwood and mint.

“I love you too.” He choked out against R’s chest, losing himself in the sound of his heartbeat and the soothing feeling of his hands moving across his back and neck.

“You’re so brave, Courf, _God_ , you’re so amazing.” Grantaire murmured and Courfeyrac had to fight the urge to shake his head. He wasn’t supposed to reject compliments. That was never in good taste…

“Thank you for telling me, love. It means a lot to me.” Grantaire said after a while of just holding him, letting him swim up from whatever depths he’d plunged into. Courf nodded slowly and tilted his head up a little bit, so he could place a soft kiss to Grantaire’s neck, whatever skin he could reach.

“I’ll tell you more about… it all when I can. Okay? As soon as I can.” Courfeyac muttered, but he could feel himself getting more and more tired, drifting off to sleep. “It makes us closer, when we talk about ourselves. Even if I’m so very bad at it.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Courf. Not a second sooner. You right now is enough for me, love, I shouldn’t have pushed  it-”

“Shhhh,” Courf laughed, “I love you. No regrets.” Grantaire laughed and Courfeyrac felt him kiss the top of his head sweetly.

“No regrets.” He muttered back, “Go to sleep, Courfeyrac. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Mmkay… Happy Anniversary.”

“Happy Anniversary.”

###

**_3 Years and 5 Months After_ **

“Courfeyrac!” Grantaire yelled when he finally picked up the phone, “Why the hell has Floreal been texting me laughing emojis with no context for the last 45 minutes? She won’t answer my questions. She just keeps sending me these emojis. Of laughing cats. Why do I feel like this has something to do with you?”

“Ummm… I don’t know? Because you’re the smartest and most handsome guy I’ve ever known?”

“Oh my God, what did you do? Are you almost home?” Grantaire asked tentatively.

“Yeah, for sure. I’m outside, walking in now. It’s just sort of hard to get the keys with this… um.” Courfeyrac abruptly stopped talking and Grantaire waited a long moment before snapping.

“With this what, Courf. Are you hurt?” _Why would Floreal laugh about that?_

“Hmm? Oh no! No, I’m fine it’s just… okay. I’m at the door. I’ll talk to you about it in a sec.” Courfeyrac said right before he hung up. Grantaire scoffed, shooting up from the couch as he heard Courf’s keys in the door.

“Okay, this better not be costing me mone- oh my God,” Grantaire stopped dead in his tracks as he walked into their hallway, Courfeyrac just having dropped his bag by the door and doing a very poor job of hiding the wriggly lump stuffed under his jacket, “What the fuck is in your jacket?” Courf smiled widely and R swore, it was straight out of a fucking movie, the way that fluffy little gray head popped up just as he finished his sentence.

“I found a cat.” Courfeyrac explained, quite redundantly. Grantaire just stared.

“Oh my God! Stop just staring at me! Are you mad?” Courfeyrac asked, eyes desperate. Grantaire sputtered for a moment.

“Wait, let me get this straight? You want to _keep_ this cat?” Courfeyrac nodded and bit his lip as he smiled.

“I named her Pheobe Buffay, because I know you love her.” Grantaire barked out a laugh and the cat meowed softly in protest. R would be damned if it wasn’t a _cute_ noise. He took a step closer, reaching out a hand to pet her as Courf finally pulled her all the way out of his coat.

“Where did you find her?” She was tiny, probably still a kitten, but fuck was she furry. She had long gray and black fur and big wide green eyes. She was… adorable. Fucking adorable and oh _God_ now he had to take care of a cat?

“Well… I saved her.”

“You saved her? From what?”

“Flor and I were taking a walk over behind Hentschke? You know, by that little creek? And well, she was crying out and when we got to her she was all soaking wet and trapped on this little rock thingy and I reached in and grabbed her and now I love her.” Courf explained in a rush. Grantaire paused in petting the cat to look up at him in surprise. “And then we took her back to the music building to get her dried up before we took her in the car, and she just went up and climbed right in Max’s guitar case while we were talking! So, I named her Pheobe.”

“… And you wanna keep her _here_?” Grantaire asked incredulously. It wasn’t that he didn’t like cats! He loved cats, who didn’t? But… “Isn’t that kind of a big commitment? I mean what if…”

“ _What if_ what?” Courfeyrac asked, giving him a funny look. Grantaire shrugged.

“I don’t know just… what if something changes? You know, between the two of us?” Grantaire said, shrugging nonchalantly, but _God_ on the inside his stomach was flipping. Courfeyrac just frowned a little and shook his head.

“I don’t have a _what if_. Do you have a _what if_?” Courfeyrac asked and Grantaire smiled softly and shook his head.

“Nope.” And then they both grinned at each other for a long moment before the little one in Courfeyrac’s arms meowed loudly at the lack of attention, startling them both out of their reverie.

“Well let’s get Phoebe Buffay settled then, shall we?” Grantaire said, and Courfeyrac’s answering grin was everything Grantaire lived for. It was the good stuff.

###

**_4 Years and 8 Months After_ **

“What did you wanna do for dinner?” Grantaire asked as they were walking back from orchestra rehearsal to their apartment. Courfeyrac shrugged and didn’t respond. “I was thinking pasta? We haven’t had that in a while, have we?” Grantaire teased. It was a cheap shot, since all Courf really knew how to make was pasta, but Grantaire was just trying to get a _ny response_ … but still. Bupkis.

“Are you okay?” Grantaire asked after a little longer of the awkward silence that was extending between the two of them. Now R wasn’t someone who thought that people had to always be talking, and there were many times when Courf and R walked home without talking, tired from the long day of interacting with other people. But… this silence felt tense and uncomfortable.

“Yeah, R. I’m… I’m good. Long day though, fuck I’m tired.” Courfeyrac explained and Grantaire _almost_ believed it, really he almost did. They did have a long day, started at 9:00AM and went to 8:00PM. They were both exhausted. It would’ve been easy to pretend.

“Okay. That sounds fake, but okay.” Grantaire mumbled as he opened the door to their apartment. He heard Courfeyrac sigh loudly as he walked in behind him, but neither of them said anything about it. Grantaire went into the kitchen to start making dinner and Courfeyrac retreated to their room without a word.

Grantaire tried not to grumble as he stirred the spaghetti sauce, but he was definitely unsuccessful. Courfeyrac had been acting weird for… a few weeks? He would’ve mentioned it sooner, brought it up and tried to clear the air, but he’d been so _busy_. It was the middle of the semester and with graduation coming up there was so much to do his head would spin sometimes. And with the private students his instructors had recommended and the four ensembles he had committed to and with all his other classes and _Orkidstra_ and the students he said he would accompany in recital rep he was GOING INSANE. He hardly got a moment to breathe where he wasn’t thinking about all he had to do and so… yeah, it took him a few weeks to see that something was up with Courf. And now it was all he could think about.

Courf wasn’t doing anything particularly aggressive, but there were signs. He was quieter when they were together and with other people as well, they hardly texted anymore, he wouldn’t insist that they walk back and forth to class or even to _campus_ together, etc.

“Dinner ready?” Courferyac asked, startling Grantaire out of his thoughts and almost causing him to burn himself as he strained the noodles.

“Um, yeah. Practically.” Courfeyrac nodded and moved to grab plates out of the cabinet. Grantaire felt awkward, not knowing what to say, because, honestly, lately that was the extent of their conversations. It rarely went above ten words.

They sat down at the table and, after Grantaire grabbed the both beers from them fridge and Courfeyrac dished out their plates, started eating.

It was awkward for a long moment, both of them just eating silently and pretending things were normal. Then suddenly Courfeyrac dropped his silverware with a clank and covered his face with both hands, groaning loudly.

“ _Fuck,_ this is so stupid.” He yelled, sound muffled by his hands placed firmly over his mouth. Grantaire stopped his fork midway to his mouth and then set it down gently, expecting something significant to happen pretty soon.

Sure enough, a second later Courfeyrac looked up at him with wide tearful eyes, looking surprisingly resolute.

“Are you gonna break up with me, or what?” Courfeyrac asked, voice only breaking a little.

Grantaire felt his mouth literally drop open and yeah, if he had been holding that fork it definitely would’ve been dropped because w _hat the fuck?_

“What the fuck? Where is this coming from?” Grantaire asked frantically. Courfeyrac paled a little and shrugged, picking up his fork again and messing with the noodles on his plate.

“I don’t know. It was just…”

“Just what, Courf? What did I do to make you think I wanted to break up with you _at all?_ Because lemme tell you, that thought never even entered my-”

“You’re going back to New York. That’s your w _hat if._ ” Courferyac snapped, cutting him off quite effectively.

“Oh.” Grantaire whispered and Courf nodded, looking bitter.

“Yeah, and a few weeks ago, Andrews asked you to recap why you came to this school and she wanted to know if you felt like you were going to achieve that goal and you said! You said you wanted to build up the music program at your elementary school back home so… obviously that’s still your plan so… what? You’re just going to leave me? Were we ever going to talk about this or were you just going to leave me behind? Because we’ve been dating for _four years_ and we hardly ever talk about the future, like most people at least _ponder_ the idea of getting married, but noooo and-”

“Courfeyrac! Slow down, okay. You’re rambling and I don’t want you to get a panic attack, okay?” Grantaire said, as soothing as he could because Courf was starting to talk faster and faster and he was breathing heavy and his face was all red. He was working himself up over… nothing.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“Courfeyrac, I love you. I’m not breaking up with you. And you’re right, this is something we should talk about, our future. But,” Grantaire grabbed one of Courfeyrac’s hands and tried not to laugh, “Honestly, love, I guess I didn’t talk to you about it before because… it didn’t seem like something up for debate? I’m gonna be with you. No matter what, we’ll be together, right?” Courfeyrac’s eyes were insanely wide as he stared at R and Grantaire had _no idea_ what was running through his mind, but it looked… good?

“So you… want me to come to New York with you?”

“If that’s what you want to do, then yes. If you wanna stay in California, that’s cool too. If you wanna move to Thailand, I’ll figure something out. Honestly, Courfeyrac, this is the _last thing_ in the whole world you need to worry about. Because until you say the word, I’m not leaving you. And the marriage thing… God, I was so used to that just… not being an option? Because of Combeferre and Enj and you know… but, Courf, you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, so… you’re stuck with me for a while, babe. Is that cool?” Grantaire teased, making Courfeyrac finally break out into that grin that R didn’t know he’d missed so much.

“I think I can make that work… because I’m not getting rid of you, ever,” Courf insisted, before leaning back in his chair with a small smug smile, “So it’ll be you and me, in New York… you know that means? I’ll get to meet your old friends.” He mused, almost nervously, but Grantaire only nodded, ignoring the weird feeling that stirred deep down.

“Yeah… you’re gonna love ‘em.” He was _certain_ of that. He was almost afraid of how well some of them would get along, uncertain if New York would be able to handle some of those combinations (the worst of which he knew exactly because _fuck all_ if he couldn’t tell that Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre would be a fucking force to be reckoned with).

“You’re serious about this? You’re okay with coming across the country with me? You’d be leaving everything behind…” Grantaire asked seriously. Courfeyrac smiled and nodded.

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. I wanna be with you, no matter what. So, take me home, Grantaire. Take me home.”                                  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> HEY i also happen to have a tumblr if that interests anyone... come say hi :D  
> [themightychipmunk](http://themightychipmunk.tumblr.com/)
> 
> also pls pls pls don't think enj is an asshole i love him so much and he gets better he does his heart is in the right place i just needed him to do and say some things that arent great but he still holds a special place in my heart of hearts
> 
> ONE MORE THING; if anyone wants my headcanons for what these lovely people all look like, just go look at artcii (on tumblr)'s drawings of them. they are literally all head-on exactly my faves.


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